


Paperback

by bonoffee



Series: Paperback [1]
Category: U2
Genre: AU, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonoffee/pseuds/bonoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bookshop, four men and some angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An AU, set in my own little fictional U2 world. Big, big thanks and hugs go to the fabulous echo0001 for her invaluable help and great ideas – she has helped make this fic better.

The small bookshop on the corner of O’Connell Street was the kind of quiet, inconspicuous building that nobody would notice unless they intended to. A few tourists here and there would discover its existence on a well-researched map, and of course there was word-of-mouth amongst those in the know that Paperback was one of the best stockists for miles around, if only you knew where to find it. It was not the easiest or most obvious place to stumble into while in possession of a snickering hangover.

And yet on a drizzly autumn Saturday afternoon, Adam Clayton found himself doing just that.

Adam wasn’t a big reader. Now and then he would pick up the current bestseller only to discard it on a park bench or – less romantically – under the pile of dirty clothes and cigarette butts in his apartment. He wasn’t one for heading home early in the evening to catch up on the next chapter of a novel. He much preferred staying by the bar, having one more for the road.

And another. And another.

The previous night had been no exception. Adam had ended up in a loud, crowded traditional Irish pub with a group of rowdy students, and had drunk to forget the fact that his two job applications had been rejected, leaving him to face his flatmate Larry with no good news to break. The two of them had been scraping by of late, with Larry dipping into his savings to support both of them. He    
_said_   
 he didn’t resent Adam being unemployed, but Adam had begun to feel a tension developing between the two of them. The thought of losing Larry’s friendship was too much to bear, so Adam had been actively seeking work – as yet to no avail. 

His futility had taunted him into finding consolation in the arms of alcohol, and today Adam was feeling the repercussions drill into his skull. Painkillers had made no difference beyond making him wonder if he was becoming immune to paracetemol. There had been no food in the flat, not that he was sure he could have faced eating. He hadn’t cleaned or tidied in weeks and his bedroom was beginning to smell less than pleasant, which above all else prevented him bringing girls back for some sort of skewed comfort.

Adam wasn’t in the mood for getting wet. When it began to pitter-patter and then, all of a sudden, splash-crash, he cursed loudly, narrowly avoided being hit by a passing bicycle and ducked into the nearest doorway. 

The most welcome thing about the shop Adam found himself in was its padded silence. There was no music, in fact no noise of any discernable kind apart from the rain slapping the windows. Adam ran a restless hand through his blonde, crazy-curly hair and looked around hopefully, wondering if a nice young woman might appear, take pity on him and offer him a sobering black coffee or something. 

He didn’t want to shout for attention in a place so determinedly quiet, so he waited, brushing droplets from his trousers and glancing at the numerous books on dozens of shelves, each volume advertising itself in a distinct way. The titles winked, sideways, at him, enticing his eyes and seducing him to have a closer look.

 _The Lord of the Flies. A Sunset Song. Confessions of a Justified Sinner._

Adam’s wandering, haphazard fingers halted at that and gently pulled the book from its cosy nest between two others.    
_The title seems to fit me, anyway,_   
 he thought wryly as he flipped it over to read the dust jacket.

“Can I help you?” 

Though soft and unassuming, the voice so startled Adam that he nearly threw the book into the air. As it was, he gasped slightly in fright and turned to see a man around his own age watching with a small smile on his face. 

Adam’s first thought was how handsome the man was, with his sharp features and narrow body; his second thought was    
_why am I thinking about his face and body?_   
 His third was    
_I wonder if he has coffee._

“Um, I was just looking,” he stumbled, hurriedly placing the book back where he imagined he’d found it, only to discover no space for it. “I’m sure it goes here,” he muttered, to himself rather than the man, who nevertheless appeared by his side and slid the book from his clumsy grasp. “Sorry,” Adam added, feeling childishly stupid and inexplicably embarrassed. 

“Not a problem,” the man replied cheerfully. “This is an excellent book.”

“Oh.” Adam wished he had an insightful comment to make, but he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy to pretend, either. “I haven’t read it.”

“Really?” Not a judgmental tone, Adam noted. Interested. Curious? “I think you’d enjoy it. It’s about hypocrisy in religion, but it’s also about the dual personalities many, if not all, people have. Much more, besides.” 

“Right.”    
_Stripping off in the pub would be easier than this._

The man nodded. “Yes, I highly recommend it.” He chuckled. “But then, I’d highly recommend almost anything. I adore books, you see. It sounds silly but they’re like children to me. I have to take care of them for a little while, and eventually somebody will come along and adopt them, give them a good home.” 

Adam didn’t know how to reply.    
_Yes, that does sound silly. But his eyes lit up nicely when he said it._

Fuck, where did that come from?

“Ah, you    
_do_   
 think I’m crazy,” the man said, after a few moments in which Adam said nothing. “Fair enough, I suppose. You wouldn’t be the first one. Perhaps that’s why I’m in this shop alone for most of the day.” He seemed to shake himself, and eyed Adam with a sort of amused suspicion. “You didn’t come in here deliberately, did you?” he asked rhetorically. “I should pray for rain more often.”

That broke Adam’s reverie and made him laugh despite his discomfort. “Or pray for more wet guys with dreadful hangovers,” he smiled, and that elicited more laughter from both of them. “I’m Adam, by the way.” He held out a hand on impulse, unsure why he was making the first move other than it was polite, and it felt the right thing to do. 

His hand was shaken gently but surprisingly firmly for someone of the other man’s slender stature. “Edge. Pleased to meet you.”

Adam blinked, certain his pounding head had finally succeeded in deafening him. “I’m sorry; did you just say ‘Edge’?”

Edge rolled his eyes, which Adam decided were definitely very attractive.    
_Why on earth do I keep thinking about his eyes?_

“It’s a nickname one of my friends gave me years ago. It might as well be my actual name now since everyone calls me by it. Don’t ask how I got it; I can’t quite remember myself. I think Bono was probably drunk when he chose it.”

Adam shook his head slightly, which didn’t help the thumping. “Bono?”

Edge shrugged good-naturedly. “What can I say? I have strange friends with strange names.”

“I don’t have any strange names,” Adam said, doing a quick brain-rack to make sure he hadn’t forgotten one past the insults Larry sometimes hurled at him for forgetting to vacuum.

“Just hope you don’t meet Bono, then,” Edge said, chuckling. “I think all the good ones are taken by now.”

Adam watched Edge move over to the till and noticed for the first time that he was wearing a flat, black hat out of the ends of which dark hair fell as far as his slim shoulders. It wasn’t a look that Adam thought would work for many people but there was a serene, elegant air about Edge which made him the exception. 

Adam wondered whether it was time he left before he continued having odd musings about eyes and hair and nicknames, but he found it difficult to move. He hoped that was because the rain hadn’t eased, not because Edge’s waist was intriguingly slim. 

 _He’s a man, you idiot, not a girl. I’m blaming this entirely on the hangover. Maybe I inhaled something dodgy last night and forgot about it._

“So you’ve a hangover?” Edge asked conversationally, as though he’d read part of Adam’s mind. 

“Yes,” Adam replied, glad for a reason to stay in the shop.    
_To shelter from the rain, of course_   
. “God, yes. I feel like my brain’s about to fall out.”

“Watch my carpet,” Edge joked. “I thought I’d have a headache today but luckily it seems to have passed me by.”

“You were out last night as well, then?”

“Well, for a little while. We ended up in Bono’s kitchen, sitting in a circle, playing guitars and singing. And drinking.” He made a displeased face. “I dread to think what sort of stuff we came up with in that state.”

“Do you play?” Adam was interested. A few years previously he had flirted with the insane notion of giving up his worthless life in Dublin to join a band. The idea came to a crashing end when he discovered he had neither the talent nor the patience to play an instrument, and no band wanted him anyway.    
_Not that I could blame them._

Edge nodded. “I have a couple of guitars, actually. Bono usually borrows one when the mood takes him. Don’t tell him I told you this, but I give him the one that’s slightly out-of-tune. Nobody notices.” He winked, and Adam’s belly felt warm, the way it sometimes did when he drank. A sober conversation, he realised, was a rarity to be treasured.

“I used to have a guitar,” Adam admitted, wishing to contribute more than questions. Edge’s sharp eyes lit up, making his face practically glow, and Adam found himself having to swallow rather deliberately without knowing exactly why. “Don’t get excited; I was hopeless.”

“Did you practice?” Edge asked shrewdly.

“Well, yeah. Sort of. I lost interest when I realised I was rubbish. So I suppose I didn’t practice, really.” Adam grinned sheepishly. “Didn’t have anyone to teach me.”

“You don’t need a teacher to get hold of the basics,” Edge said. “I’m sure you’d be good if you gave it another try. It doesn’t happen overnight, unfortunately. You say you have a guitar?”

Adam shook his head. “Not any more. I had to… I had to sell it. We needed money for rent and stuff.”

“I see.” Again Edge didn’t sound critical; he seemed interested. The openness in his face made Adam bold, made him less afraid to tell the truth.    
_I can’t put my finger on the reason, but I know I can trust this guy. And I don’t trust many people._

“Yeah. Things are tough at the moment. Money’s short and, well, things like guitars aren’t necessary, are they? Not to me, anyway.”

“No,” Edge agreed. “You live with someone?”

“Yeah. My friend Larry. We’ve been friends since we were about sixteen. There were a few years where we lost contact. I kind of… fell off the radar, so to speak. But we’ve been in our flat for about five years now. I’d rather we didn’t lose it.”

“Understandably.” Edge picked up two mugs and cocked his head at Adam. “Fancy a coffee?”

 _Hallelujah!_   
 “That’d be great, thanks. Just black is fine for me.” 

Edge moved to the right of his counter, where he had a kettle and a jar of strong-smelling coffee. As Edge set about making the drinks, he offered Adam a seat which turned out to be a stool placed near the counter. The situation, which Adam had initially felt inclined to flee from, was turning out to be very pleasant and civilized. Adam was grateful for that. It reminded him that he was still capable of making friends without the aid of a potent spirit. 

“Five years, then,” Edge began as he sat down on an adjacent stool and handed Adam a welcoming, steaming mug of black coffee. “You’d imagine we might have met already. Dublin’s not that big a city, really.”

“Maybe we met when we were both pissed,” Adam suggested, feeling fortified now he’d let the rich coffee taste seep into his system. “It’s happened before. I’ve met someone and totally forgotten until the next time when they expect me to remember their name. Nightmare.”

Edge laughed. “Oh yes, I’ve been there.”

“So how long have you owned this shop? I never knew it was here.”

“Lots of people don’t. I kind of like it that way. I usually get bemused visitors and some nice tourists. I meet interesting people, working here. Much like today.” Edge smiled before taking a sip of his milked-and-sugared coffee. “I bought this place probably around the same time you and your friend moved into your flat. Same year, at least. I wasn’t doing anything interesting, so I decided to give it a shot as a bookshop owner. It was either this or go into some mad venture with Bono, and believe me, if you knew Bono you’d advise against that!”

Adam laughed. “Do you live above the shop?” He wondered if this was too nosy a question, but Edge didn’t seem to mind if it was.

“That’s hard to answer… Well, I mean, I do technically live there. It’s part of the package and it’s cheaper than forking out for a separate flat or whatever. I don’t spend much time there, though. After work I’m usually with Bono and everyone and end up sleeping at someone else’s. To be honest it’s turning into the sort of weird nomadic existence I probably should’ve grown out of by now.” Edge looked pensive, staring down into his mug, and Adam shifted on his stool.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said. “I live in one place and go back there every night, and it doesn’t make me happy. It’s a bit lonely, to be honest. I don’t mean Larry – Larry’s great. But.” He shrugged, because he truly didn’t know what else to say, how else to explain even to himself the way the flat always seemed so empty and dull.    
_Or perhaps that’s just my outlook._

Edge seemed to sense Adam’s discomfort, because he changed the subject a little. “What’s Larry like?”

Adam took a big gulp of coffee. It soothed his veins and made his muscles ache less. Even the persistent pounding in his head was starting to ease. 

“Larry’s cool. Year younger than I am. Better looking than I am, as well.” They both laughed. “He likes bikes, drums, football… He’s too tidy and wouldn’t believe in spending money even if we had some. He comes across as hard but really he’s a good, loyal, decent friend. I owe a lot to him, that’s for sure. He puts up with me and I don’t know why he bothers. That’s Larry, though.”

“Maybe he puts up with you because you’re a good, loyal, decent friend, too,” Edge suggested quietly, his cheeks pink. 

Adam bristled. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help feeling irked that Edge was deciding on his character after one meeting.    
_He has no bloody idea what I’m really like, how useless I am…_

“I’m afraid you don’t know me well enough to say that,” he replied steadily. Edge met his gaze for a few seconds, seemed to be weighing up his options. In the end he nodded.

“You’re right, I don’t. I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m quite a good judge of people, usually. I wasn’t trying to presume anything.”

“It’s okay,” Adam sighed. “I guess talking about myself isn’t a good idea. Larry, though. One day I might bring him in here.”

“Does he like to read?”

“Not hugely.”    
_Neither do I, yet I’ve been here for an hour now. Not for the books, mind you. I can admit that much._

“Ah well, perhaps I can convert him. Look, Adam, I hope things start to go a bit more smoothly for you. Can I ask what you do for a living?” 

“I’m not working at the moment,” Adam explained, shrugging and moving the mug around aimlessly in his hands. Again he mused at telling this to someone he barely knew; it occurred to him that nobody had shown that much genuine interest for a while and it was actually a nice feeling. “I don’t think I’m very employable. Not according to the rejection letters, anyway!” That was intended to be light-hearted, but fell flat as Edge kept watching him with an inscrutable expression. Then Edge spoke.

“How would you like to work here?”

Adam almost checked around to make sure nobody else was behind him. Surely Edge couldn’t be serious? Quite apart from the fact Adam knew nothing about books that would qualify him for this shop, it didn’t appear to be the busiest establishment in the world, and he didn’t understand how Edge could afford to pay himself, let alone an unreliable guy he knew little about. 

“Adam?” Edge appeared concerned. “You okay? I didn’t… offend you or anything, did I?”

“Of course not!” Adam replied hurriedly, pasting a smile onto his face. “Um, you just took me by surprise. Are you serious?”

Edge nodded. “I’m very serious. As you can tell I’m on my own for most of the day, so you’d be welcome company. And it’s not the hardest job in the world. As long as you can be polite to customers and work out change, you’re fine.” He stood up, placing his empty mug beside the kettle. “But don’t let me pressure you. It’s entirely your decision. Just let me know whenever you decide.” He smiled and turned to unpack some books from a big cardboard box behind the counter. Adam, watching, found himself hypnotised by the way Edge’s hair moved in the light, and he   
_knew,_   
 as instinctively as he knew his own name, that he couldn’t possibly turn down an offer to be around this man every single day. Ignoring the warning shout at the back of his subconscious, he slid off the stool and cleared his throat.

“Edge?”

Edge straightened and turned. “Yes?”

“I’d like to take your offer.” Adam felt breathless. He supposed it was at the thought of finally earning some money.

But then Edge smiled, a proper, true smile, and Adam knew money wasn’t even in his top ten reasons to be excited. 

“Great!” Edge replied. “That’s great. Hey, look, that rain’s stopped.” He gestured to the window, through which Adam could see the sun straining to peep out from behind rumbly grey clouds. “Why don’t you go home while it’s dry and recover properly? If you come back on Monday we can discuss everything properly.”

“Okay, that’d be cool.”    
_Cool? You’re nearly thirty, Clayton._

Edge just kept beaming in a way that radiated the entire room, or so it seemed to Adam. “How about one-ish? Bono said he’d pop in around lunchtime but he should be gone by then. I say ‘should’ because real time and Bono-time are    
_not_   
 the same thing.”

They laughed, Adam more out of sheer giddiness than real humour. He left after saying goodbye and thanks to Edge, who waved until Adam was safely out of the door and back on the noisy, dirty Dublin street. A passing middle-aged woman slammed into Adam’s side, swearing at him as her bags knocked about, but all he did in return was smile. He was lost in thoughts of Paperback – a lovely, quiet world removed from normal life – and was amazed to realise he couldn’t wait to go back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to echo0001 as well for giving her opinions on this chapter way back. I’ve changed things since and betad it myself so please let me know of any typos and daft mistakes, of which there may well be many.

  


As the wall clock’s hands slipped to five o’clock, Edge set about the business of tidying the counter and putting away the newspapers he’d been trying to read during the shop’s final dead hour. Usually, Edge wouldn’t have let mess accumulate in the first place – it created a bad impression, after all – but over the course of the afternoon he’d found himself distracted and unable to concentrate on the simplest of tasks. At one point he had almost given a customer the incorrect change.

It would have been easy for Edge to believe this was entirely down to lack of sleep and a slight headache, but he would have been fooling himself. Ever since Adam left the shop, Edge had been feeling restless and a strange sort of uncomfortable. At the back of his mind he’d made the connection but his conscience was trying to argue otherwise. 

 _I can’t fancy him. I barely know him. And I have Bono._

Edge let out a gentle snort. Yes, he ‘had’ Bono. Certainly to an outside observer it would probably seem like Edge and Bono were in a real, committed relationship. They kissed like a couple, they made love like a couple, sometimes they even held hands like a couple. Edge loved Bono in ways he knew he could never love anyone else. He was sure Bono felt the same way. Yet their situation was very much casual and the official party line was that they were both free to sleep with whoever else they wanted. The worst part was, Edge didn’t know if he wanted something more serious or not. After all, he never found himself with someone else to take home and most of the time he hated the idea of Bono in someone else’s unappreciative bed. The times he didn’t hate it were usually when he took employed a tactic of distraction, such as taking apart a computer or the video machine. Or taking apart  _Bono’s_  video machine, which was a lot more fun.

Overall, though, the relationship was there and it seemed to work. Developing feelings for somebody else was in the unthinkable realm for Edge. He wouldn’t be able to act on them, and anyway, Adam was probably straight. Edge had yet to explain properly about Bono; there was no telling how people would react to information like that, and Edge hadn’t wanted to risk a perfectly enjoyable hour with Adam. Next time, he’d tell.  _Really throw the poor bastard in at the deep end._

Edge sighed and went across to the door. The rain hadn’t stopped all afternoon and if anything it was heavier now. He supposed he was fortunate his flat was just upstairs.  _I should go and make some food. Maybe see what’s on TV. I could go to bed._

Turning the small sign on the door to ‘closed’, Edge was startled when someone pushed it open, yanking him from his train of mundane thought. 

“And here I was hoping you’d be open for another hour at least.”

Bono, dripping from the ends of his jacket, removed his hat and smirked suggestively at Edge, whose heart was pounding from the sheer surprise. 

“God, Bono, if you carry on like this it’ll be lucky if I manage another ten minutes,” he said breathlessly, shutting the door again. “And stop making my carpet soggy.”

“I’d rather make  _you_  soggy,” Bono replied in a comedy leer, leaning in to brush a kiss to Edge’s lips. “Seriously, you’re closing?”

Edge rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m closing. It’s five pm, what do you expect me to do? Die of hunger in case you decide to pop round to make wet footprints all over my -  _Bono!”_  

Bono had accidentally dropped his soaking hat onto a pile of new books. Edge rescued them just in time and scowled at Bono, who delivered another, apologetic, kiss. 

“I’m sorry, love,” he crooned. “And I didn’t realise how late it was. I’ve lost my watch, you see.”

 _Forgive me if I don’t collapse with shock at this news._  “Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Edge tried to keep the accusation from his voice.  _Casual relationship. Remember that. He doesn’t have to answer to you. And you don’t him, either. No, really, you don’t._

“Ah, well, I was at a loose end, so to speak…”

“And you thought who better to visit than ‘loose Edge’, right?” That was too far, and Edge realised as soon as he’d said it. He bit his lip and turned to face Bono, whose expression was confused and a little hurt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m tired, that’s all. It, it’s been quite a long day.”

“Okay,” Bono nodded. “So you wouldn’t mind if we urged night on?” He slid up behind Edge, arms wrapped around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. He fit so perfectly that Edge shivered. “Bit by bit…” Bono kissed Edge’s cheek; Edge let his head fall back. “Slowly…” Bono licked carefully up Edge’s exposed neck, drawing a low moan from within. “Until the stars go blue…” Bono bit on Edge’s ear. It felt as wonderful as it always did, and Edge knew resistance to Bono was futile, as it always was. 

“I think we should go upstairs,” Edge gasped as Bono’s cold fingers wandered inside his trousers, stroking his hips. 

Bono growled in his ear. “I could take you right now,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Over this desk…”

“Upstairs,” Edge repeated, because as hot as he found Bono’s suggestion, he heard an unfamiliar niggling voice somewhere in his overheated mind reminding him about the books and the windows and Adam. 

 _Adam? Why the hell am I thinking about Adam at a time like this?_

  
*

  
Upon waking, Edge always took a few moments to figure out where he was. It wasn’t a given that he’d be tucked up safely in his own bed. This morning was no exception when he opened his eyes to see that horrible pattered wallpaper he wouldn’t give houseroom to. Nobody was beside him in the double bed, but he could hear movement somewhere down the hall. It was comforting to know at least he wasn’t alone, because for some reason he felt he needed company to keep him sane. 

Edge didn’t realise his eyes had drifted closed again until he felt the bed dip a little and opened one eye to see his lover watching him with a smile and a cup of coffee. 

“Want some?” Bono held out the mug with a quizzical eyebrow, taking it back when Edge shook his head. “You okay, love? You look wiped out.”

“Thanks,” Edge yawned.

“Still devastatingly handsome, of course,” Bono added, leaning down and kissing Edge’s forehead. “Maybe I wore you out at last?”

Edge couldn’t help smirking at that. “If you remember correctly, I was the one doing the wearing out last night.”

Bono sat back, looking thoughtful. “Hmm. True, that. In that case you’re turning into a lightweight, Edge. Can’t have that, can we?” He placed the coffee cup on the table next to the bed and slid down so that he was lying beside Edge. Snuggling close, Bono pulled Edge towards him and kissed him languidly, tongues meeting sleepily in the middle. Edge had just enough energy to moan when Bono broke the kiss and tucked Edge’s head into the crook of his neck. 

“Five more minutes won’t hurt.”

 _Won’t it?_  “I don’t remember coming back here,” Edge muttered into Bono’s skin. 

Bono stroked his fingertips along the back of Edge’s neck. “We spent some time at yours, christening that fucking awful sofa, and we both got a little drunk. Decided to go to mine.”

“Right.” Edge wasn’t entirely satisfied with this explanation, but the reason for this was eluding him and he didn’t have enough energy to search for it. Closing his heavy eyes, he allowed Bono’s hands to wander down his back, Bono’s lips to kiss the soft skin beside his ear, Bono’s leg to work between both of his.

 _So comfortable. We’re comfortable. And I like that. He likes that. Good._

Edge drifted off again, the last thing he heard being Bono’s soft, steady breathing as he, too, fell asleep.

  
*

Sunday, Adam believed, was the best day of the week. There was nothing to do except lie in bed until you felt ready to get up, and everything on Sunday was always really relaxed. It helped that job interviews never took place on a Sunday, so Adam didn’t have to wake up nervous and sure of failure, either.

 _Ah, but there’s no need for that at all, now, is there? I have a job._

Celebrating said job had taken Adam back out on the tiles the night before, the remains of his hangover joining him. Larry was away visiting his father and wasn’t due back till Monday, and Adam hadn’t fancied coming home to an empty, cold flat to worry about how he’d manage when he started work. Having a few drinks with friends had certainly lessened his anxiety for a few hours at least.

And there was the issue with Edge. Adam had the sinking, twisting feeling that he was taking more of a liking to Edge than was natural, so he’d tried to combat that the best way he knew how.

Glancing at the sleeping woman next to him, Adam realised this form of weaponry wasn’t quite as sharp as it used to be. It hadn’t defended him against a strange dream he’d had about Edge reading romantic poetry to him on top of a hill.  _I don’t even like romantic poetry._

Forsaking his lie-in, Adam slipped quietly out of bed and went into the kitchen for a smoke. He couldn’t help smiling at the dozen-or-so Post-Its stuck haphazardly to the fridge, missives from Larry reminding Adam in no uncertain terms to carry out such chores as vacuuming and washing-up. None of them had been adhered to, of course, because Adam had been far too busy having fun and speaking to Edge and meeting strange women and getting a job…  _Ha, I have a job! I can’t wait to see Larry’s face when I tell him._

Staring out of the window at the newborn sun, Adam couldn’t stop himself wondering where Edge was. Had he ended up at someone else’s place again? What did he do on Sundays when the shop was shut? 

 _And why the hell should I care?_

Adam had a painful suspicion he knew the answer to that particular question already. 

“Adam?” 

Adam spun around at the sleepy female voice; in the doorway stood the girl from last night –  _what on earth is her name? It’s not like me to forget._

“Hi.” He offered a smile, and then coffee, which she accepted with a slight blush. He noticed she’d pulled on one of his old shirts. “You look good in that.”  _Nothing wrong with a compliment. One of us should have one, and she deserves it far more than I ever could._

The girl blushed deeper. “Sorry; I couldn’t find anything else apart from my dress… I guess I’ll head off soon,” she added, fingering the mug before taking a long drink. 

Adam sat down at the tiny square table and motioned for her to do the same. “Look, I don’t want you to think I do this sort of thing a lot,” he said, as convincingly as possible.  _Okay, maybe I do, but not as often as I used to._  “Well… Not really. I’m sorry if, if I gave the wrong impression. I didn’t mean to.”  _Amy. That’s her name!_  “Sorry, Amy.”

Amy shook her dark head. “Not at all. It’s a one-night stand. I understand, Adam, you don’t have to worry I’ll start harassing you or anything.” She smiled. “I’m quite impressed you seem bothered, though. Most of the men I’ve been with, well, they didn’t make the effort.”

“I am bothered,” Adam insisted.  _Please don’t let her believe I’m a total bastard. Even if it might be true._  “I don’t like using people. Maybe at one time it wouldn’t have mattered but…” He shrugged, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. 

Amy placed her mug on the table. “You haven’t used me,” she said quietly. “We used each other. It’s allowed, you know. We  _are_  adults.” Giving him another smile, she stood up. “I’ll get dressed and be on my way. Leave you be.”

Adam was going to protest that she didn’t have to go so soon, but he needed the time alone to have a go at some of the chores before Larry returned and had a fit.  _Oh, and try to figure out why the hell I can’t stop thinking about Edge, even when a pretty girl is wearing my shirt._

By the time Amy had departed, Adam had showered, dressed, smoked another half-dozen and was ready to tackle cleaning up. Casting a despairing glance around the apparently bomb-hit living room, Adam sighed. He’d told himself the mess would look more approachable in the morning; if anything, it was making his heart sink further. He had never been one to bother too much about keeping the place tidy, but the state it was in now was enough to depress him. 

What made it worse was, of course, the fact Adam had so far ignored Larry’s notes, full of exclamation marks and underscoring in an attempt to put across his orders. Larry would not be amused if he came home to discover a worse situation than the one he’d left, and Adam didn’t fancy facing his friend’s impressive wrath. Heaving a breath of resignation, he set about throwing rubbish out and finding the vacuum cleaner. 

The monotony of housework did provide Adam with a chance to think properly about his new job, which he was to start the next day. He knew he was nervous – proven by the fact he was up unusually early – and also he was aware he might not enjoy the actual work. After all, it hadn’t been the  _books_  attracting him. 

 _Stop it,_  he scolded himself as he threw out a pizza box and a few empty beer cans.  _I am not attracted to a man. I can’t be! I’ve slept with hundreds of women, for God’s sake. Edge is not a woman. Therefore, fancying him is not possible._

Adam’s own-brand logic failed to convince, and he groaned as he switched on the vacuum and started pushing it around the mucky carpet. 

Once he’d half-finished the living room, Adam took a deep breath and pushed open his bedroom door, almost ready to witness it by the light of day. He wished he hadn’t when he took in the sight and smell before him. Remnants of smoking and drinking lay scattered around the floor like furniture, and the bed clothes hadn’t been washed in well over two weeks. It was disgusting, and Adam felt shame creep upon him at having lived like this for so long without even caring about it. And he’d invited a woman to sleep in this dreadful mess. Now that he was going to have a job and be responsible, the insanity of keeping a room in this condition was clarifying in Adam’s mind.

 _Edge would probably sack me if he saw this. And we can’t be having that._

  



	3. Chapter 3

As Adam walked down the busy street towards Paperback, he felt nerves nipping at his skin, distracting him and making his stomach flip. It had been so long since his last job, which magnified the worries in his mind. He was unable to keep from fretting over what he was wearing (black trousers and a sober blue shirt); what his hair looked like (a bunch of blonde corkscrews – he knew it needed a cut); whether he should have tried reading posh newspapers’ literary supplements after accepting this job (not very likely at all). These and other concerns were vying for pole position, and Adam grew slightly flustered under their scrutiny.   
  
By the time he had decided he would actually be better going home and forgetting the whole thing, he was outside the bookshop’s ornate front door with the realisation that he would never be able to turn back when the alternative was working with someone as interesting ( _and beautiful,_  his mind added, shocking him) as Edge.   
  
_I have to go in. I’ll regret it if I don’t. Here goes nothing…_   
  
Adjusting his expression to what he hoped resembled ‘relaxed and confident’, Adam pushed open the door, jingling the little bell, and stepped over the threshold. Edge was sitting on a stool by the counter, eating half a sandwich and studying a broadsheet laid out in front of him.    
  
But Edge wasn’t alone.   
  
Adam cursed the unwelcome jolt that greeted his stomach as he absorbed what appeared to be a very cosy scene. Next to Edge on the other stool,  _the one I sat on,_  was a man about Adam’s own age. His hair was longish and very dark, and he had stubble across his jaw. He was also wearing sunglasses, despite the fact it was a cold, overcast day and he was indoors. More than his appearance, however, was the manner in which he sat; he was practically draped over Edge without even touching him. The two of them were talking in low voices, heads close, and then Edge laughed in a rich way that told Adam for sure that this other guy was anything but a stranger.   
  
“Hi.” Adam found his voice at last, knowing he had to say something.    
  
Edge looked up; upon seeing Adam, his face burst into warm recognition and he slid off the stool to greet Adam with a responding ‘hello’ and an accompanying handshake, the latter unexpected but certainly not unpleasant. Adam found himself marvelling at how snugly their hands fit together.    
  
“Adam! Glad you decided to come back. How are you?”   
  
Instead of the hat of Saturday, Edge was wearing a red headscarf which drew his shoulder-length hair away from his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. It took a few moments for Adam to realise that he was staring, and that Edge had asked a question.    
  
“I’m fine, thank you. Managed to turn up dry, as well.”  _There’s black humour for you. Except it wasn’t very funny. Fuck._   
  
Edge laughed anyway, which was pleasant. “Always a bonus, I find.”    
  
A polite cough sounded from the counter, and Edge turned with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, I hadn’t forgotten you, don’t worry. Adam,” he continued, moving back a little, “this is Bono. Bono, Adam. My new co-worker.”   
  
So  _that_  was Bono.   
  
_Well, he’s not very good-looking, is he?_   
  
“Don’t let Edge fool you, now. I’ve heard all about you already.” Bono was getting up; he came over and gave Adam a hug, as if they’d known one another for years. Adam wasn’t quite sure what to say in response –  _he’s heard about me? What did Edge say? Did he ramble on and on about me until Bono told him to shut up?_  – but fortunately Edge saved him.   
  
“For goodness’ sake, Bono, put him down. You’ll scare him off and I don’t want that.” Edge started moving the stools out of the way. “Isn’t it about time you were going, by the way?”   
  
Bono sighed loudly and over-dramatically. “You wound me, Edge, with your determination to see the back of me.”   
  
“It’s nicer than the front of you,” Edge retorted, laughing when Bono slapped his backside.    
  
Adam stared. He wasn’t uncomfortable with displays of affection normally, but Edge and Bono’s interaction seemed very different. It was as though he was intruding on something private yet open, and he didn’t know how he was expected to act in the middle of it. And then he realised that his thoughts, and his gaze, had drifted to Edge’s arse.   
  
“Seeing as I’ve overstayed my welcome, I’ll be off.” Bono was heading for the door, picking up a huge cowboy hat from the counter as he went, and putting it on. “Nice to meet you, Adam. I hope you find it rewarding, working here.”   
  
_What does that mean? He wasn’t really smiling when he said it._   
  
“Yeah, yeah, time’s up. Shoo,” Edge was saying affectionately. “I’ll see you later.”   
  
Bono nodded. “Bye, love.” And he kissed Edge firmly on the lips before sweeping open the door and striding out onto the pavement.    
  
When Edge turned back to Adam, he looked a little flushed and embarrassed. Adam’s heart skittered at the loveliness of Edge’s pink face and the uncertainty of the situation.    
  
“Sorry about that,” Edge said quietly. “He ought to have been gone by now but we ended up having a late lunch. He was helping me with the stock, you see.”   
  
Adam didn’t really see, but he pretended that he did. “Right. No problem.” He had never seen two men act that way with each other and it was affecting him more than he would have imagined. The physical closeness wasn’t the issue – Adam had gay friends who kissed and touched in public, and he himself would often give Larry a friendly hug. The education was in the clear intimacy Edge and Bono shared, a bond born of real, deep love. Adam couldn’t think of a single person he’d had that kind of closeness with, which saddened him. To cheer himself up, he wondered what Larry would have said if Bono tried hugging  _him,_  and laughed inwardly at the image of Larry kicking Bono’s shins to bits with his heavy boots.   
  
Edge, meanwhile, was acting as if nothing out-of-the-ordinary had happened.  _Maybe it hasn’t,_  Adam mused as he watched his new boss clear away the used plates.  _Maybe they kiss all the time. Maybe they’re not just friends. Maybe they’re… lovers?_   
  
_And why does that make me feel queasy? I’m not homophobic in the slightest._   
  
_I could be Bonophobic._   
  
“Come upstairs and I’ll show you the new books we got in this morning.” Edge’s gentle voice pulled Adam to reality. “There are some really fascinating ones, especially this one about Ireland…”   
  
_I’m going to have to ask him,_  Adam decided as he ascended the stairs after Edge.  _Ask about Bono and the kiss. Just out of curiosity. Something to tell Larry when he gets home. People are interesting, aren’t they? That’s all. Wouldn’t be for my own benefit. Not to stop my heart beating so fast. And Edge won’t mind my asking._   
  
But before Adam could gather enough suitable words to form an inoffensive question, Edge turned to him at the top of the stairs, looking apprehensive.    
  
“Adam, I need to tell you something. It really shouldn’t be that important, but I guess it is to a lot of people and you deserve the opportunity to make up your own mind about me and about working here.” He took a visibly deep breath as Adam watched, mesmerized by the depth of Edge’s eyes, barely remembering that he was supposed to be straight.    
  
“What?” he ventured, after seconds of baited silence.   
  
“Well… I’m… I hesitate to say I’m gay. Because I hate labels like that, you know. And I’ve had girlfriends.” Edge sighed again, deeper. “But since you’ll be here a lot and so will Bono, it’s only fair to tell you that… well… Bono and I. We’re not really a couple, not  _properly,_  but…”   
  
Adam thought he truly had stopped breathing. He felt disgusted and horrified; not at the fact Edge was sleeping with Bono – for that was what he had understood Edge to be implying – but at the fact he himself was affected by it, struck as he suddenly was by a cold wave of jealousy.   
  
_What the hell am I jealous of?_  he thought desperately, searching his mind for a reasonable, logical excuse – and finding none.   
  
“Um, Adam?” Edge was observing him with a substantial degree of trepidation, probably believing his confession to have been a bad idea after all.   
  
“Yeah.” Shaking his head a little, Adam forced himself to focus. So what if Edge and Bono  _were_  lovers? Why did it matter? Why  _should_  it matter to Adam, when Adam was only an employee and liked women and definitely, definitely wasn’t gay?   
  
“You want to leave, don’t you?” Edge said miserably. “I was afraid that might happen. But you see, Bono’s so openly affectionate with everyone, even earlier with you, and he’d never met you before. Our…  _relationship_ , this word came with a hint of frustration, “was bound to become obvious, if of course it isn’t already.” He shrugged hopelessly. Adam’s stomach skipped and flopped. “I don’t usually tell people about Bono. Not people I don’t know really well. But you were going to be working here. And apart from that, I do like you, Adam. As I said before, I’m a fairly good judge of character and I can tell we’d get on. I understand completely, though, if you’d rather leave.”   
  
Adam was shaking his head again before he realised he was doing it. “No, I’m not leaving,” he replied quickly – far quicker than he probably should have. “It doesn’t bother me, honestly. It’s cool.”  _There’s that word again. And I don’t think it’s cool._  “It was just a surprise. I have no problem with it.”   
  
Edge’s relieved, sunny smile was perfect validation of Adam’s decision; he felt the warmth of it in his bones. “That’s great! Really, it is. I’m so glad.”   
  
They grinned at each other for ten seconds or so until Adam sneezed, Edge blessed him with a wink, and they turned their joint attention to the half dozen boxes of new books.   
  
#   
  
_He’s gorgeous. He’s gorgeous. I don’t know what to do about it. _   
  
Adam kicked a rogue pebble into the road and then cursed as an icy drop of rain hit the back of his neck.  _Not again._  He wished he’d brought a hat or an umbrella as the clouds splintered and water tipped down from the sky, flattening Adam’s hair within thirty seconds.    
  
_I bet he looks gorgeous in the rain. In the snow. In the sunshine. In the middle of the night when…_   
  
_Shut up. Stop it. _   
  
This was dangerous territory. Adam didn’t even know what he was thinking, where these strange ideas were coming from. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. There were parts of his psyche he had striven for years to keep locked away, and becoming confused would only make them cry for release. No, Edge was just a guy he worked for. Like Larry was a guy he lived with.   
  
_I don’t think about Larry in that way, and he’s technically gorgeous, too. I mustn’t be gay, then, if I don’t find Larry attractive?_   
  
In fact, Adam couldn’t think of any other man who made his skin tingle the way Edge did. And it had tingled plenty during the afternoon, while he’d helped to unpack the books and Edge had summarised a few of the novels for him. Edge’s voice was like music, so soft and lilting, and Adam had found it very enjoyable simply to listen rather than try to join in. Edge hadn’t seemed to mind; he came to such life telling stories, and Adam imagined a similar effect would be had when Edge played the guitar. There was something delicately creative about him that Adam was finding rather addictive.    
  
_I’ll just add that to my list of addictions,_  he sighed as he turned into the street where he lived, where he saw a huge black motorcycle parked outside his flat, gleaming in the rain. Adam smiled, his heart lifting, because now he wasn’t alone.   
  
Larry was home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks and hugs to samuti for coming on board as my beta!

  


About thirty seconds after Adam stepped into the flat, Larry emerged from the bathroom and strolled past, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and dripping from the ends. Adam had just enough time to think  _see, he’s all toned and half-naked and I’m not remotely interested. I don’t know whether that’s good or bad, really._

“How’s it going?” Larry was calling from the kitchen, where he was rummaging in the fridge. “Did you have a good weekend?”

Adam took off his coat and shoes in the hall, hoping they wouldn’t take long to dry. “Yes, thanks,” he replied. “You? How’s your dad?” He wandered through to the living room, where Larry now stood holding a can.

“Fine, yeah, the usual.” Larry gave Adam an appraising look and grinned. “You pulled, didn’t you?”

Adam gaped. “How…? I mean, what?”  _I really don’t want to be that transparent, not if I’m going to be talking about Edge._

 _But Edge is nothing to me except my boss, so I should be okay. Right?_

“I can always tell,” Larry winked, looking far too pleased with his powers of perception. “I take it she’s gone.”

 _Of course. I’m an impolite slut, didn’t you know?_  Adam’s thoughts surprised him with their bitterness, but he tried not to pay too much heed. “Yes. That was Saturday night. More importantly, though, I cleaned this place.” 

“I noticed. Thanks. One less thing for me to do tonight.” Larry took a drink. “Anything else interesting happen? Not that I imagine anything is better than you actually using the vacuum.” He was teasing, and Adam couldn’t help chuckling. 

“Well, that was the big event,” he joked, only a little self-consciously. “Um, actually, I got a job.” He hadn’t expected to be this nervous about telling Larry, but he didn’t want to let him down. Not after everything they’d been through and how good a friend Larry had been. 

Larry’s reaction was one of delight tempered with surprise. “Seriously? That’s brilliant, well done!”

Adam smiled. “It’s not  _that_  hard to believe, surely? I have worked before, you know. Okay, it may have been about a hundred years ago, but still…”

Larry punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Of course it’s not. You know what I mean. I’m happy for you, honestly.”  _And he’s relieved, probably, that he no longer has to support us both by himself. I should have done this sooner._  “So where’s the job? Did one of the interviews get back to you?”

“Not exactly.” Adam had no idea why the truth suddenly seemed rather silly. “It’s actually in a bookshop on O’Connell Street. Paperback, it’s called. Don’t know if you’ve been in.” Adam’s thoughts drifted to Edge, as they always did when Paperback was in his mind, and often did when it wasn’t.

Larry shook his head before gulping down some more beer. “Never heard of it. What made you apply there? Didn’t think you were so fond of books, to be honest.”

Something inside Adam took offence, though Larry had said nothing out-of-turn.  _Maybe I want to be fond of books. I want to broaden my horizons, discover new things, not remain an ill-educated tart for the rest of my life._

 _And then there’s Edge._

“Well,” he answered, dropping his gaze from Larry’s face to the floor, “I didn’t actually apply. I was in on Saturday, by accident really, and got chatting to the man who owns it. He said he needed staff, and asked if I fancied working there. I said yes, of course, not as if I can afford to be picky…” He glanced at Larry, who was frowning slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Larry said, too quickly. Then, “This guy. He just…  _offered_  you a job? Without an interview or knowing you or anything?”

 _Why does he have to be so suspicious? And correct?_

Adam shrugged, trying nonchalance on for size. “I suppose so. We talked for an hour or so, though. I don’t see how that’s any different from a normal interview. In fact, it was very informal and we got on well, which means I’ll enjoy working there.”

“Right.” Larry didn’t appear convinced. He wasn’t one for bullshit, and Adam could tell he was worried there had been a lot of it about during that conversation.

“It’s fine,” Adam insisted, wishing he didn’t feel the need to justify himself all the time.  _I can’t just dismiss Larry, though. He’s like a big brother to me, looks out for me._  “Edge is a really nice guy. He’s not out to, to con me or anything.”

Larry’s blue eyes narrowed further. “His name is  _Edge?_  Who has a name like that? Ad’, c’mon, he sounds like some dodgy hippy-type to me. Are you sure this was a good idea?” Larry was using the same tone of voice he sometimes used when Adam drank too much. 

 _This is ridiculous. Anyone would think I’d decided to become a lap-dancer._  “Yes, Larry, it was a perfectly good idea. Edge isn’t a hippy. Or dodgy.” Aware he needn’t sound too defensive of a man he’d only met twice in his life, Adam added, “He might wear strange hats and have a weird name, but he’s alright. I was working today and it went fine. You should be pleased I managed to find something.”

Larry made a discomfited little noise. “I am pleased,” he said, not sounding as though he meant it. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yes. Not until lunchtime, though.”

“I might pop down and see how you’re doing.” Larry clearly wanted to check out the shop and Edge and the situation, and even though this frustrated Adam, he supposed it was nice to know somebody cared. There was nothing to be gained by arguing about it, so Adam agreed and Larry went to get dressed.

 _It’s going to be hard enough pretending I don’t feel… whatever for Edge without Larry turning up as well, examining us, acting like my bloody mother._

When Larry returned, he set about making them some dinner, but Adam followed him into the kitchen and stopped him.

“Let’s go out for pizza or something,” he suggested. “My treat, seeing as I’ll be earning money. And we haven’t eaten out in ages.” 

“You sure?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m sure. It’s only a pizza. I’ll just find another coat to wear; that one’ll still be soaking.”

In the safety of his bedroom, Adam tucked the enticing image of Edge away in a corner of his mind, one marked ‘do not disturb’, as he pulled on a warm, dry coat and looked forward to a relaxing night with his best friend. 

  
*

  
Edge had only a vague notion of the old black and white movie playing on the TV. His mind was elsewhere, snagged on a tangle of emotions involving his bizarre almost-relationship with Bono, which was becoming more painful with every moment that passed. 

Edge flicked his eyes to the wall clock. Midnight.  _Three hours late, now._

If Bono had only been considerate enough to phone and explain, Edge probably wouldn’t have minded quite so much. But there had been no word since Bono left the shop that afternoon, and the takeaway Edge had picked up had long since gone cold. 

 _I used to think the worst thing was to be alone. Now I know the worst thing is being alone when you needn’t be._

At least the wine tasted good on a bitter tongue. Edge finished his latest glass and poured another, wondering how he could have been so stupid to believe anything would actually change. The situation remained so determinedly casual to allow them both freedom to sleep with whoever else they chose, without repercussions. That idea had certainly suited Bono, but Edge had never really found himself interested enough in others. What he  _really_  wanted was to be one half of a genuine committed relationship, preferably with a Bono who felt the same, although voicing that desire was practically impossible. 

 _I don’t want to risk what we’ve got, however screwed up it is. I love him too much._

And therein lay the rub. Edge was too afraid to rock their little boat, but by failing to speak up he was causing himself more anxiety and hurt. This wasn’t, despite appearances, entirely Bono’s fault. Edge knew he was equally responsible for this situation; he’d let Bono kiss him that first night under the stars, he’d told Bono it was okay for them to keep seeing each other  _and_  other people. Bono hadn’t  _forced_  him to do anything. 

 _Bono’s primary flaw is being utterly irresistible and stripping me of all rational thought whenever his lips touch me._

Edge sighed, downing more wine. A rough wind had begun to clatter through the trees and thump against the uncovered window; in the dim light Edge could almost visualize shapes, faces, in the moonlight-shadows cast on the living room wall. 

 _I wonder if Adam would be unreliable like this._

This time, Edge didn’t question his thoughts for suddenly yanking Adam to his attention. It was silly to pretend he didn’t find his new employee attractive, and it was certainly safer to do so in the privacy of his own home. Edge wasn’t exactly sure what had caused him to stare at Adam for minutes at a time that afternoon, when the blonde man had been unpacking books or making tea or doing whatever other errand gave Edge an excuse to look, unbidden.  _His hair’s all curly. It’s mad. Mine’s mad. His is mad in a good way. Looks all soft, like it’d feel good between your fingers._

Edge shivered, finishing the wine in his glass. He placed it on the table and walked to the window, resting his hands on the sill as he stared out at the street below. A drunk old man across on the other side of the street, his face obscured but his staggering gait all too visible. A couple, a man and a woman, strolled past, hand-in-hand and laughing, their heads close together. A well-dressed man, wearing a hat and what seemed to be cowboy boots, heading towards…

 _Bono._

Edge’s heart thrummed in his chest, out of habit as much as anything, and he quickly stepped away from the window, hoping Bono hadn’t seen him. He wasn’t ready now; he’d prepared himself for a night of loneliness and unfulfilled want, and his frame of mind was all wrong.  _I’ll say something stupid about him and me and us and I’ll ruin it all, oh fuck, that’s the buzzer, he’s downstairs, he’s at the fucking door and he looked really good in that hat._

If Bono came inside, he wouldn’t stay the night. He rarely stayed over at Edge’s. If they were going to make it an all-nighter - and if Edge was going to feel less like an unpaid hooker - Bono’s was the location. Edge didn’t understand why that was. Or rather, he didn’t allow the time for dwelling on it, because no doubt he’d come up with the truth and feel no better for it.

 _I can’t let him in. He’ll make me weak and I need to think._

The buzzer persisted, its noise irritating Edge.  _If I let him in, it’d be quiet. No, no, can’t, weak, ignore him._

It was more difficult than Edge had anticipated. The desire in his belly wasn’t diminishing; if anything it was getting stronger as he imagined Bono, hard and strong, striding into the flat and pressing him against the wall. Something about  _addiction_  fizzled at the back of Edge’s mind; he didn’t know if it was a warning or a temptation, wrong or right, but it was  _true_  and Edge was powerless to stop walking over to the front door, to stop his finger pressing the intercom button, to stop himself sliding back the door chain and lifting the latch…

 _Bad idea…Really bad idea…_

Bono appeared in the doorway less than ten seconds later, licking his lips.

 _Fucking hell, bad idea._

“Keeping me waiting, Edge?” Bono said in a low voice which disturbed the hairs on the back of Edge’s neck. “Not sure if I like it.”

 _Two can play this,_  Edge thought with wild clarity, and he moved forward, resting his hands on Bono’s hips. Both of them stared down at the left hand, the right hip, where the two joined. “Some things are worth waiting for,” Edge replied, his pulse racing as he met Bono’s eyes properly. 

Bono moaned softly; in one swift movement he kicked the door shut and kissed Edge, pressing him against the nearest wall and rocking his hips up against Edge’s. 

 _Just as I had hoped. And feared._

  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to vesleskjor for looking over it for me, and to wthrwthoutyu, one of whose ideas for this fic I have taken on board. :)

  


As it transpired, Larry didn’t ‘pop down’ to Paperback for another week at least, by which time Adam was fairly settled into his working routine and had quite forgotten he might be receiving a visitor. When the next Tuesday arrived, he was in the shop with Edge, radio on low in the background as they sorted out books for the new ‘classic titles’ section. 

If Adam was honest with himself, he was, perhaps inevitably, finding his routine rather dull. Edge hadn’t been lying when he’d said the place was quiet; they’d had about a dozen customers in total since he’d started. He was slowly being reminded of why he’d dragged his heels about getting a job, and why in fact none of those he actually went for would have wanted him, anyway. 

 _I’m a lazy, hopeless bastard, and normally I would already have walked out._

There were two reasons why Adam wasn’t resorting to his usual behaviour. The first was his sense of duty and feeling of guilt towards Larry, who had seemed a lot brighter over the past week, more than likely because he expected his financial strain to ease with Adam’s wages. There was no way Adam could quit when he was contributing properly, for once in his life, and making Larry’s life more comfortable. Lazy, Adam might well have been, but he wasn’t totally selfish.

The other purpose for Adam staying at Paperback was glaringly obvious, and standing less than ten feet away from him. Edge had developed the most welcome habit of making hot chocolate in the morning, so that it was ready for Adam when he arrived. As the days grew steadily colder, Edge also wore warmer hats and sometimes a scarf, because the heating in the shop wasn’t as efficient as it could have been. On Friday, the first day they’d felt a real chill, Edge had apologised profusely and lent Adam a beautiful scarf which smelled of toast, coffee, and  _Edge._

 _I wonder if he’s noticed I never gave it back._

If Edge had noticed, he certainly hadn’t said anything about it. In fact, he hadn’t said very much at all over the previous couple of days, and Adam was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Certainly, they mentioned the weather and discussed whatever stories presented themselves in Edge’s newspaper, and of course there was plenty of explanation about the books and arranging them and working the till. Beyond those run-of-the-mill work-related conversations, Edge didn’t really talk. There seemed to be something bothering him of late; Adam had no idea what, but he desperately wanted to ask, if only to break the monotony.

 _And if it’s something upsetting, he might cry on my shoulder._  Adam laughed at his own daft thoughts as he separated  _Jude The Obscure_  from  _Great Expectations._

“What’s funny?” Edge asked, wandering over. His hair was tied in a ponytail today and he was wearing a blue woollen hat. 

“Nothing.” Adam handed Edge some more books. “Just me. Working here. It’s a bit crazy.”

Edge gave a little smile. It was really rather attractive, Adam decided. “Why’s that? Not used to such a noisy, chaotic atmosphere?” 

For a moment, Adam wondered if he’d offended Edge, that somehow Edge knew about his misgivings. And then Edge started to laugh, a clear, pure sound that rang nicely in Adam’s ears.

“I know it’s not very exciting,” he said, almost apologetically. “I’m not sure if I ought to be marketing it better. Not sure if I’d want to. I like my haven. You, though. I’d completely understand if you got fed up and wanted to leave. I hope you don’t,” he added hastily, at which Adam’s insides shifted, “but it wouldn’t come as a huge shock.”

The familiar feeling of guilt,  _I’m always trying to let someone down,_  returned as Adam swallowed and shook his head. “No. I like it here.” That answer wasn’t a lie. And it was probably doing him good to be out of trouble and in paid employment.  _To be near Edge._

About five minutes more of comfortable silence passed before Adam succumbed. 

“Edge? Are you okay?”

Edge looked at him, surprised, as if he wasn’t used to hearing that question. Adam hoped his expression was neutral but he had a horrible suspicion it was anything but.

“Yes, I’m fine. What makes you ask?”

Adam shrugged, maintaining his (admittedly rubbish) act of nonchalance as he unwrapped a couple of books from their cellophane. “Just you seem a bit quiet. And, well, when we first met, you talked a bit more.”  _God, that sounded really stupid, didn’t it? Why do I even open my mouth?_

But to Adam’s relief, Edge was smiling at him. Faintly, it was true, but definitely. The sight was enough to make Adam’s heart thud a bit louder in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Adam. You’re right. There is something on my mind, and I probably haven’t been as chatty towards you as I should be. I suppose that first day, I thought we just clicked and I didn’t want you to… not come back.” Edge’s cheeks took on a lovely reddish tint, and Adam bit his lip. “Well, I  _was_  getting bored here on my own.”

“Yes,” Adam nodded.  _You’re no better at telling the truth than I am, are you?_

“That’s all. I’m thinking about the shop lately, too.” Edge took the books Adam held out for him and drifted away to arrange them on the designated shelves. 

Adam watched him, eyes made keen through his glasses, tracing the outline of Edge’s narrow hips down to the ever-so-slight curve of his arse. 

 _Not going to tell any time soon, either, apparently._

 _I’ve kind of forgotten what we were talking about, anyway._

Adam wasn’t surprised by this stray thought, absorbed as he was by studying Edge’s form. He marvelled at how delicate Edge appeared sometimes; in certain lights he looked almost brittle, his features sharp and porcelain-smooth. His voice was usually soft and laced with a gentle amusement and occasionally Adam would ask an inconsequential question simply to hear the answer embraced by Edge’s pretty lilting accent. And when Edge walked, carrying himself with a quiet grace, his long hair would swing down his back, hypnotizing Adam if he happened to be looking – which was becoming more often than not.

 _I’m making him sound almost feminine. Maybe I want to feel less guilt about the way I think of him. But that’s ridiculous, because he’s definitely not a woman._

 _I’m not sure I’d want him to be a woman, either._  

Adam was about to mention something to Edge about going for a drink after work – a week into their working relationship and they still hadn’t done that – when the door opened and a young woman with long, dark hair walked in. Adam glanced at her once and then a second time when his brain recognised her as Amy, the girl he’d taken home about a week ago. He blinked at her, and from the surprised expression on her face she clearly hadn’t been expecting to see him behind the counter of a bookshop. 

 _Well, that makes two of us._

“Hi, Adam,” she said, giving him a smile. “How are you?”

“Fine, yeah, great.” He resisted the urge to glance at Edge, to see his reaction. “You look well.”

“Ah, I think it’s all this cold weather, it makes me look rosy and healthy when really, I’m anything but!” She pulled off her scarf. “I’m just going to browse over here, if that’s alright.”

Adam nodded automatically. “Of course. Take your time.” They exchanged another smile which displayed their awkwardness for all to see, and Amy moved over to what was possibly the furthest corner away from Adam. For his part, Adam continued to unwrap books and lay them out on the counter for Edge, trying to ignore his discomfort at having two starkly different aspects of his life sharing the same breathing space. The way to remain calm and laidback about things was to separate them and deal with them individually; Adam had discovered, over the years, that this was the best strategy for him when it came to issues he couldn’t solve immediately. He didn’t want to get confused and think too deeply about who he was, because sometimes Adam didn’t like himself very much.

But it was proving hard to remain level-headed when Edge approached Amy, showing her whatever book he had in his hands. Adam watched them talk; the way Edge’s eyes seemed to shift and sparkle when he was listening to her, her over-friendly laugh at something he said. The meeting of two people both of whom Adam knew he should never have gone near. Neither route was likely to end happily; one-night stands could only sustain a man for so long, and as for developing a crush on another man…

Adam felt the burden of his dissatisfaction settle on his shoulders, and he sighed at the weight of it.

 _This is why I’m single, of course. I do it all wrong. I can’t just find somebody and fall in love, the same way everyone else does. I can’t let anyone in so they can hurt me. I just pick odd targets for my affections. Some are far too easy, others are totally impossible._

Edge’s voice drifted to Adam’s ears as he came over to the counter with Amy, who was wrapping the scarf around her neck again.

“I didn’t realise that play was still running, though,” Edge was saying to her with interest, handing a book to Adam. “Could you ring that up for me, Adam?”

As Adam obediently did so, Amy said, “Oh yes, it’s on for another week. I’d definitely recommend it.”

“Yes, I might go along.” Edge watched Adam’s hands slip the book into a carrier bag and give it to Amy. 

“Five ninety-nine, please,” Adam said, his skin prickling under Edge’s gaze, which was now trained on Adam’s face. He could feel it, though he dared not meet it.

“Here… Keep the penny.” Amy smiled again and turned to leave the shop, clutching the carrier bag. “Thanks for your help,” she said to Edge, and then to Adam, “It was nice to see you again.” 

“You too.” 

Edge was still staring once Amy had left. Adam finally looked at him, to end the discomfort if nothing else. “What?”

“It looks like I’m not the only one with something on his mind.” 

Adam shrugged. “She’s not on my mind.” He knew what conclusion Edge was drawing, because it was fairly obvious, and he didn’t wish to encourage it. The last thing he wanted was for Edge to think he was pining for some girl when the truth was…

Edge didn’t move from in front of the counter; he seemed to be considering his next words very carefully. “Adam…”

“She was just a one-night stand,” Adam blurted out before Edge could get going. “It meant nothing. Okay? We had sex and in the morning, she went home. I’m sorry if, if that’s an issue for you. But I didn’t know she was coming in here. I don’t plan to bring my personal life to work.”

He had no idea where that little speech had emerged from, and suddenly he very much wanted a drink. Instead, he busied himself by picking up a pile of new books and taking them over to Edge’s shelf display, wondering how and if he could ever get his head around the fact his personal life  _was_  at work, because all he seemed to think about during his waking hours was Edge. 

A draught blew around Adam’s neck as he sorted the books, but he didn’t bother turning to see who’d come in until he heard his name being uttered in a very familiar Dublin accent.

“Adam!”

All leather jacket and windswept blond hair, Larry was hovering by the door, apparently blown in along with some leaves.

“Oh, Larry, hi. You decided to visit me, then.” In truth, Adam had quite forgotten about his apprehension over Larry coming to his place of work, but now it was actually happening, the nerves returned, tingling their way along Adam’s skin. He put down the books he was holding and went over to the door to welcome Larry inside. 

“Yeah, told you I would, didn’t I? Thought I’d check the place out, see what the craic is.” Larry spared Adam a grin, his cheeks ruddy from the chill wind outside, his eyes appearing a brighter blue than usual. Adam wondered why he was suddenly finding it fascinating to study Larry’s face when he saw it every day without thinking twice. 

 _Maybe it’s because he’s nothing like Edge and I want to see if I really do fancy men in general. Not sure it’d be better or worse if I did. Larry is very handsome._

“So this is it?” Larry was looking around, taking in the shelves and the desk and even the ceiling, from what Adam could tell. “Hmm. It’s not as big as I’d imagined. Not for a place that needs more staff. And it’s really quiet. Don’t you get many customers?”

“Oh, we get our fair share.” Edge’s melodic voice reached Adam’s ears and he tried not to shiver. At least not visibly. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Edge added lightly to Larry as he approached.

Adam saw Larry’s frown settle comfortably onto his brow, which was never a good sign, and decided to step in. 

“Edge, this is my friend Larry. Larry, this is Edge. My boss.”

Instead of the hand-shaking and friendly smiling he’d predicted would occur when the two finally came into contact, Adam was surprised (and a little dismayed) to watch them eye each other up carefully, almost suspiciously. Larry was blatant about his distrust but Edge hid his behind a veil of politeness that, while impressive, didn’t fool Adam in the slightest. 

“Nice to meet you,” Edge volunteered at last. “Would you like a tea? I was just about to make some for me and Adam.”

 _Almost sounded as if he meant that._

Larry shook his head and folded his arms. “No,” he replied, “no, thanks. I’m not staying. Just wanted to check Adam was okay.” 

 _He makes it sound like an accusation. What does he think Edge is going to do to me? Of course I’m okay… Or at least, I was until about five minutes ago._  Adam couldn’t work out what was wrong here. Larry was difficult to get to know and he didn’t let people in easily but it was still unlike him to be so closed-off and rude to someone he’d just met. He had a real problem with Edge for whatever reason; Adam could see it in his eyes and in the way he was standing. 

And Edge… He’d been so friendly to Adam that first day and he was always chatty to customers, and as a consequence Adam had assumed he’d at least make an effort with Larry. Instead, Edge was barely looking at either of them as he pottered around by the desk, tidying up and putting the kettle on. 

“Adam is fine,” he said, so quietly he almost went unheard. Adam heard, though, and so did Larry judging by the way his eyes narrowed to the point where they were almost slits. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Adam tried to reassure Larry, moving around him to open the door. “I’ve got work to do so I’ll see you at home?” 

“Yeah.” Larry managed to stop glaring at Edge and patted Adam on the arm before leaving the shop. Gladly closing the door on that horrible weather, and with any luck the awkward atmosphere, Adam turned to Edge, who was studiously pouring hot water into two mugs. 

“What--” Adam began, uncertain of his own question, but it didn’t matter. Edge pushed the blue mug across the desk to him before picking up his own and heading upstairs, mumbling something about stock.

  



	6. Chapter 6

  


Edge’s fingertips traced a line around the rim of the glass. Slowly, carefully, he moved them, watching endless circles form before his eyes, getting lost in the slight dizziness they created. He had very little wine left and that was disappointing, because he wasn’t sure he could continue watching Bono without being utterly drunk. If he was drunk, he might not mind that Bono was practically sitting on the knee of his friend Gavin, ignoring Edge completely. If he was drunk, he might have the guts to finally walk over there and announce that it was over and then he’d be free. 

 _But I’m not drunk, and nothing has changed. And what’s more, I don’t know if I want it to._

Bono was a miasma of talents. Fantastic at sex, great at singing, wonderfully capable of being loud at inappropriate times: Edge knew them all in more detail than he cared to admit. The years of friendship – and beyond – had given Edge the sort of insight into Bono that he believed no one else could experience, yet he often managed to feel completely distant from him at the same time. The carefully struck balance left Edge unwilling to move too far one way or another, lest he tip the scales, but this was mainly for his own benefit. Bono’s friends, many as there were, did not have much in common with Edge apart from, well, Bono, and since setting up Paperback he’d become something of a loner, through no concrete decision of his own. Things had simply panned out that way. The bookshop had become his work, his home, his life, and he couldn’t help feeling as protective towards that little building as if it were his flesh and blood.

No one understood. Least of all Bono, with his flamboyant apartment and swarms of adoring friends and a job, such as it was, which allowed him to show off the best parts of his personality to large audiences, something he seemed to thrive on. If he wasn’t writing poetry, he was composing music. If he wasn’t composing music, he’d be scribbling away in the middle of the night on a novel. So many ideas were jostling about in Bono’s brain that they had to overflow, and of course he was brilliant. Edge supposed the brilliance had glinted and teased and attracted him in the first place; now it was the very thing making him restless and unsatisfied. 

 _Because everyone else notices it too, and it’s not new any more. I want something more from him than that. It’s not enough to make me happy._

Drinking the rest of his wine, Edge wondered what Adam was doing. It wasn’t unknown for his mind to flit between Bono and Adam like a promiscuous butterfly; in fact thinking of one usually brought about thoughts of the other, which didn’t help matters much at all. Edge ended up wondering if he wouldn’t be better off with a wife and children like most other men in Dublin.

 _But Adam, Adam’s different. He’s exciting. He’s vulnerable and world-weary at the same time. I want to sit and talk to him for hours, instead of being trapped here with someone who often acts as if I am of no importance…_

Edge stared as Bono planted a solid kiss on Gavin’s cheek and laughed.  _Funny how I didn’t care as much before. Before I met Adam._

When Bono finally did rejoin Edge, ten minutes later, he came complete with a salacious grin and a look of hopeful lust. “Edge,” he crooned, snuggling up close. “Missed you, love. Why are you hiding over here?”

 _The truth or not the truth?_  “I’m not hiding,” Edge replied, a little defensively, because he kind of was hiding. “I was thinking.”

Bono chuckled; his voice, low and sultry, curled its way into Edge’s ear, singeing his defences. “It does no good to think, Edge. Not tonight. Tonight is for  _wanting,_  love. I want you to stay and get drunk with me. It’s no fun on my own, is it?” His hand cupped Edge’s sharp jaw,  _my nickname, the way I am perceived, all flows from him,_  and he pressed a wine-stained kiss to the rough chin. “And then, then you can come home with me and we can make love.”

Edge sighed, he had to, it was automatic, because Bono had become such a part of him that he was as good as inside him whenever he spoke like that. They both knew it. Edge felt his resolve fizzle a little, because that was automatic too.  _I can’t be weak this time. I need to go home and sober up properly and sort out my head and stay out of his reach for a while,_ but he was minutes from having Bono, and that made rational thought appear ludicrous.

“We’ll see,” was what he said, a sort of compromise between head and heart, a lie to make himself feel better one way or the other. 

“Yes. We will.” Bono sat back and his mouth made a shape that resembled self-satisfaction. “I hope you’re coming to the play this weekend. Real critics will be there, although of course my favourite critic is you.” He kissed Edge’s cheek this time, which warmed as Edge realised now was the time to make his confession, one which he suspected wouldn’t be well-received, but he’d spent the previous day considering it and decided it might actually work to his advantage.  _If only to gauge exactly how seriously Bono thinks of me and our relationship, such as it is._

“Um,” he began, clearing his throat, which made Bono frown a little and lean in again. “Well, I’ll be there, certainly, but, well…” He hesitated.

“Edge,” Bono said, in a voice of satin designed to coax the words out. “Well what?”

Edge took a deep breath. “I want to invite Adam to the play. You know, Adam from work?”  _As if there’s another._

“I know who Adam is,” Bono said, the satin catching. 

“Good,” Edge replied, meeting Bono’s darkened eyes with defiance.  _He needn’t bother getting annoyed, especially when he’s been molesting people in front of me all night._  “I thought it was time he and I socialized outside work, and maybe it’d be nice if you got to know him better, too. He’s a decent man.”

Bono held up one hand. Benediction. Edge’s heckles rose, satisfyingly. “Edge, I don’t doubt his decency. If you’ve employed him, there must be something positive to be said. I have to say, I _was_  looking forward to having you to myself on Saturday, but if you want to bring someone else along, well…”

 _Oh yes, he’d have me to himself, but I can guarantee I wouldn’t be his only concern. Tonight has been proof of that, if proof were needed. I guess I ought to be grateful for these precious minutes with him, but I’m not. I’m quite tired of them._

“It is what I want,” Edge nodded, “and it’s what I’m going to do. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fans clamouring for your attention, asking questions about the play. Adam can keep me company while you further your profile.” A cleverly-soft smile complemented the sharpness of Edge’s tone, leaving Bono unsure which was genuine.  _I’m playing him for once. He knows it, but he can’t admit it._

“Right. Fair enough, Edge. I’ll look forward to seeing you and Adam on Thursday night.” He moved closer again and pressed a dry kiss to Edge’s cheek. “Gavin wanted to talk to me about something. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

As he watched Bono move away, amble over to Gavin’s table, Edge let out a breath he’d been unconsciously holding. At last, the usually solid, impenetrable ground between them had shifted, and it was all Edge’s doing. He thought he was relieved until he realised, with an unexpected jolt to his stomach, that Bono no longer wanted him to stay the night; that perhaps the move he’d made had actually been the wrong one. 

*

  
Adam knew that if he kept staring for long enough, surrender would be inevitable. It had worked before. Some people didn’t like to be under scrutiny, and Larry was one of those. It had to be admitted, however, that this time was proving more difficult than the others. Adam’s eyes had been stalking Larry around the room for at least an hour, and no words had yet been spoken.

 _He’s relying on me to say something. He thinks he’s more stubborn than I am. True as that may be, I’m not letting him off easily._

The smell of tuna filled the room as Larry sat down with dinner in front of the TV, which he proceeded to switch on at a very loud volume. He flicked channels for a couple of minutes before settling on what sounded like a wildlife programme, although Adam couldn’t see the screen from where he was sitting by the window.

 _Nice tactics. Trying to smoke me out, Lawrence?_

The thought gave Adam a delicious idea. He reached into his pocket for the tin and, setting it on the small table in front of him, began to make a lot of unnecessary noise rolling a cigarette, before lighting it and taking the deepest drag possible. He was careful to exhale in Larry’s direction, and even though Larry did a sterling job of acting nonchalant, the wrinkling of his nose gave away how he really felt. Adam knew he was desperate to shout about making a mess of the flat or how he didn’t want to inhale that rubbish, but doing that would require talking. 

 _Well, if you’re going to act like a child, why shouldn’t I?_

Eventually, after what seemed like a very long time to Adam, the silence snapped in two. Larry finished his meal and got up, shooting Adam a filthy look before stalking into the kitchen and clattering about with his plate and cutlery. Adam followed and stood in the doorway, watching.

“Will you fucking stop staring at me,” Larry growled, making a big deal about turning the tap on. “And put that fucking fag out.”

Adam couldn’t resist a smile as he stubbed the cigarette on the door frame. “Sorry,” he said, pleasantly. “I forgot you don’t enjoy the smell.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Larry grumbled, slamming a cupboard door shut and pushing past Adam into the living room, where he started tidying things that were already tidy. 

“Excuse me, but I believe I’m the one who is supposed to be pissed off,” Adam pointed out, fixing his gaze on Larry’s neck, which was rather interesting. 

Larry dropped the magazines he was holding and folded his arms, turning to Adam properly. “Really? And why would that be? You’re the one being an idiot, fucking about in that stupid fucking bookshop.”

Raising his eyebrows, Adam raised his eyes to meet Larry’s, stormy slate. “I’m merely earning a wage, something you’ve been pushing me to do for months.  _And,_  you’re the one who was incredibly rude to my boss.”

Larry snorted. “He’s more than your boss.”

“Yes. He’s also my friend, and I don’t appreciate you treating my friends like that.” Adam moved closer. “What happened? I know you’re private, Larry, but I’ve never known you not to even shake someone’s hand when you meet them.” 

“You’re angry because I didn’t shake his hand?” Larry shook his head as if Adam was crazy. “Wow, you really don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

 _I have no idea what he’s getting at. I don’t know what Edge did wrong. Or what I did either, for that matter._

“What was it, then?” Adam began to feel frustration bubbling inside him, despite his best attempts at staying calm. “You’re not giving me much to go on, here.” Larry didn’t reply. “Look, I like working there. Edge has been good to me. He’s taken me on when I don’t think he really needed to, and now I’m paying my way here, you ought to be pleased. I’m sick of you ignoring me, or telling me to clean up, treating me like a naughty child. I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions, you know.”

Larry let out an irritated little sound. “God, you have no idea, Ad’,” he replied shortly. “I’m not treating you like a child. I never have. I’ve tried to look out for you, be a friend, because let’s face it, when we first got this place you weren’t in the best way. And I didn’t  _mind_  doing that, I never have, you just don’t realise when something’s staring you in the face and it fucking pisses me off that you don’t trust me.”

Adam didn’t know whether to be annoyed or hurt or upset. He settled for confused. “What makes you think I don’t trust you? This all sounds rather more like you don’t trust me.”

“Well. Maybe we don’t trust each other. And what does that tell you?” With that, Larry gave Adam a last, almost pitying look before grabbing his coat from the rack and heading out into the rainy evening, leaving Adam wondering exactly what had just happened. 

  
*

  
Edge felt his heart stutter a little in his chest as the door opened and Adam walked in, looking all blustery and elegant, managing somehow to drink coffee and smoke at the same time. It wasn’t _right,_  these feelings that caused Edge’s scalp to tingle and his cheeks to burn with anticipation, but he couldn’t deny that they made themselves known every single time he saw Adam now. Sometimes it wasn’t intentional; Edge might be rooting around in the basement, searching for some lost title he’d planned to read ages ago, when Adam would pop his head around the door with a cup of tea and ask if he could help. In those moments when the space, the infinite gap life had forced between them, became compressed so that only they seemed to exist, it was all Edge could do not to close it completely with a kiss. 

“Morning.” Adam’s lips, curved around his cigarette, teased Edge mercilessly. It was then he realised he was probably staring, and forced his attention onto the newspaper in front of him. “Ghastly weather. I think we’ll be getting snow, soon.” 

Edge glanced up, doing his best to appear normal and content and at peace with the world. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“How was your Sunday?” Adam asked as he removed his long coat and hung it on the stand behind the door. 

Edge turned a page and tried to ignore the thoughts of Bono that immediately pressed their way into his mind. There was no way he was going to admit to Adam that he’d spent his Sunday possibly ruining whatever strange relationship he and Bono shared simply because he had a silly, pointless crush on someone else.  _On Adam._

“Oh. You know. Uneventful.”

“Same here. I was hoping to relax, but things didn’t quite work out that way.” 

Despite his anxieties, Edge heard the concern laced into Adam’s soft voice, and closed his paper. He looked, properly, at the man he was so glad he’d employed, even if his reasons hadn’t been purely philanthropic. That wild blonde hair, the sparky blue eyes, the quirk of a mouth that didn’t give room for innocent thoughts…  _Adam is beautiful._

“What happened?” Edge accepted, with thanks, the take-away hot chocolate Adam had brought. 

Adam sighed, sitting on his stool, closer than Edge had hoped. Even if they couldn’t be together, at least Edge had material to feed his dreams. 

“I really don’t know. There’s something bothering Larry, and I have no idea what. He’s being very cryptic, as if I’m supposed to know. In many respects he’s acting like a woman, and it unnerves me.”

Edge couldn’t resist a laugh. “I think that would unnerve anyone,” he smiled. “A woman with those muscles.”

Adam started laughing, too. “Exactly.”

“And he hasn’t told you what the problem is? Larry doesn’t seem… Well, from what I could tell from our short meeting, he didn’t seem the kind of person not to tell you straight.”  _That’s putting it mildly. I think Larry might have wanted to punch me._

“Exactly, again.” Adam shrugged, drinking his coffee and stubbing out his cigarette end. “All I know is, he’s unhappy about my working here.”

Edge, fidgeting with the paper cup, nodded, more to himself than Adam. “Right. So what are you going to do?” 

Adam stared at Edge as if he had just announced the entrance of a man dressed as a fly. “What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything. Except continue to work here, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Edge replied, ignoring the glee that clapped its hands inside his brain. “But Larry…”

“Larry is my friend, Edge,” Adam said, gently. “He doesn’t make decisions for me. If he has an issue with the way things are, me working with you, then that’s his business. I like Paperback, you know. It’s a very attractive little shop.” Adam smiled warmly and Edge felt quite foolish. He’d become so accustomed to wondering about Bono’s wishes and arranging nights in around Bono’s schedule that he’d practically forgotten that theirs wasn’t a healthy way to conduct a real, adult relationship, one where both parties are equally involved. 

Then he reminded himself that Adam and Larry weren’t in a relationship, functional or otherwise, because (for one thing) Adam wasn’t gay.  _He enjoys the company of women, he sleeps with lots of women, he seems to have a great time._  There was no chance for Edge even if he had been single and uncomplicated. Edge knew that, and yet it made no difference. He still wanted Adam. He still wanted to kiss Adam and find out what it was like to hold Adam’s hands. 

 _I still want to invite Adam to the theatre._

So, he did.

  



	7. Chapter 7

  


Edge patted his jacket pocket for what had to be the twelfth time, a comforting habit he had developed which both reassured him the tickets were still there and passed time waiting for Adam.

 _Waiting for Adam._  It was almost unthinkable, really. Edge’s invitation had been issued with a great deal of uncertainty, so when Adam had accepted enthusiastically, it had been a genuinely nice surprise. A strange feeling of accomplishment had stayed with Edge for the rest of that day, and as the two of them worked out the hours in Paperback, he became more and more convinced that he had done the right thing. So what if Bono was put out? That made a change. The main thing to focus on was that Edge was being allowed to spend an evening exclusively in Adam’s company. 

Standing in the foyer of the Ambassador theatre, watching a clutch of people flow to and from the bar, Edge had to keep reminding himself of this. That there was an advantage to being out here in the cold with all the critics and Dublin public, as if he was just another punter and not Bono’s lover.  _Adam will be worth it._  He had to be, because it was bad enough to be suffering the cold treatment Bono was issuing, without at least getting to enjoy its cause. 

Edge checked his watch again.  _Ten minutes late._  Five more and he knew he’d probably have to abandon ship, which was a depressing prospect and made his front row seats seem pointless. Normally he wouldn’t have minded where he sat, but Adam’s presence had prompted an unforeseen need to show off a little. Edge wanted Adam to respect him or admire him  _or something_. To see him beyond the manager of a tiny bookshop, some scruffy-looking guy who liked guitars and hats. That wasn’t him.  _Well, it is, but it’s a me associated with Bono. I’d like Adam to think of me differently. To think I’m worth being the only person he makes love to, without wanting half a dozen others as well._ 

Realising his inward tone was sounding resentful, Edge shook his head to clear it and when he looked up, Adam was coming towards him, dressed in a long black coat and sporting a bright pink scarf.  _Pink? It suits him_ , Edge had enough time to muse before he was shaking Adam’s hand and leading him towards the auditorium. 

“I’m ever so sorry I’m late,” Adam said, tugging on his hair absently, self-consciously. “I’m afraid my schedule conspired against me. That, and the weather.”

Edge smiled, handing Adam his ticket. “Don’t worry. We’re early, anyway. I like your scarf,” he added, unable to ignore it.

Adam looked pleased, but tried to hide it with a chuckle. “Oh, thank you. It’s a little loud, I know, though I think that’s why I like it. Last year I gave Larry the same one and he didn’t speak to me for a whole afternoon. I think he was questioning my motives.”

Edge laughed, imagining the scene. “How are things with him?” Larry wasn’t a safe subject, not by any means, but at the present moment Edge found talking about him preferable to discussing Bono, something they would be forced to get around to eventually.

“Fine. I quite like not having to speak to the other person in my house, of course,” Adam said wryly, “so the current arrangement suits me, but I suppose there’s still some sort of problem. He wasn’t happy when I told him I was coming here tonight.”

“That’s a shame,” Edge replied, staring at his ticket and tracing the words printed.  _With Or Without You_. He knew all about the play, having been present for much of its conception, and he had contributed to its score with three instrumental pieces Bono had found particularly moving. He didn’t expect any sort of recognition for that, but he hoped the presence of his creativity would help to make the situation easier between him and Bono. The depth that had existed in their relationship was frozen over and Edge hadn’t worked out how to change that, because he wasn’t sure if it was his responsibility to. There was a distinct unfairness in the way Bono was acting like a wounded animal when this was mostly his fault. 

 _Yes, it’s his fault. It’s not mine, surely? Can he blame me for wanting real affection? I suppose he can._

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder then and stopped walking, aware he’d been lost in thought instead of conversing with Adam. 

“Edge? Are you okay?” Adam’s smoky voice was low in his ear, and Edge swallowed, forcing a lump in his throat to retreat. 

“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks,” he nodded, both loving and hating the weight of Adam’s hand right there, a distraction and a comfort. “We should find our seats.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll get us both a drink,” Adam suggested, without moving his hand. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

 _He’s giving me space. In the right way._  “Thanks. I’ll have a coffee.”  _Something stronger later, perhaps, when I don’t have to pay attention so much._

As Adam left, finally relieving his hold, Edge walked up the steps to where the usher stood, handed over his ticket for tearing and then headed into the hall. Scores of people already sat and Edge felt a sense of pride in being able to walk past them all because he knew the man who wrote this play; he’d kissed him and touched him, held him, been inside him. And nobody knew. It was a funny little secret, indeed.

The seats couldn’t have been better. Edge removed his aged suit jacket – worn with jeans it didn’t look so bad – and sat down, neatly folding the jacket over the arm of the seat. As he looked at the stage there was no straining of the neck or need to sit up straighter. Everything was ideal and for a moment Edge wished he could tell Bono that, and also that he could wish him luck, but he didn’t know where Bono was. Having heard nothing from him in three days, Edge had concluded it was stalemate and difficult to know what move to make next. 

Adam appeared moments later, rousing Edge from his worries and handing him a polystyrene cup filled with what looked vaguely like coffee. 

“Goodness, what fantastic seats,” he said, sounding suitably impressed, taking his seat and removing the pink scarf.

“Thanks,” Edge replied, letting himself smile at Adam and trying to relax before it became obvious something was bothering him. “It’s due to start soon,” he added by way of extra conversation, and Adam nodded.

“Yes. I picked up a couple of programmes on the way in, someone was selling, and all the information is right here.” Adam gave Edge one of the small shiny booklets and opened his own copy after sipping some noxious-smelling tea. “This stuff is vile. Whoever gets away with calling it a drink should be brought to book.” 

Edge was only half-listening because he’d alighted on Bono’s biography, a gushing slab of prose sweeping rapidly through his career so far and offering hopes that he would ‘continue to strengthen his position as one of Ireland’s most promising artistic talents’. No mention was made of the amendments Edge had made to pieces of Bono’s work, nor did the writer credit any of Edge’s ideas which had given rise to some of Bono’s best-known poems and newspaper items.  _Well, of course not. Silly of me to expect any sort of acknowledgement, really._  Bitter, these thoughts, bitter in a way Edge didn’t care for, yet he was helpless to stop the hollow anger welling up inside him. 

Adam, beside him, was oblivious to this private turmoil as he flipped through pages, stopping at the production list and studying it carefully, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I haven’t heard of many of the people involved, I must admit,” he murmured. 

“Bono likes to use as many of his friends as possible,” Edge explained, doing his best to sound informative rather than sarcastic. “He repays many favours that way.”

“I see.” Adam nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I’ll be fascinated to see what this play is about. You’ve told me before how talented Bono is at writing, so I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.” He offered Edge a warm smile and Edge took it gratefully, hoping that he hadn’t made a huge mistake in arranging such a clash of his two worlds. 

When the play began ten minutes later, it was to a maximum capacity audience. This fact made Edge proud, despite his intentions to disassociate himself from the production. The truth was he could no more do that than fly to the moon. 

Adam was a very good guest. He watched the action on stage with a furrowed-brow intensity that made Edge want him more. His eyes never left the actors and actresses as if he was determined to fully understand whatever message they were conveying. The play itself wasn’t the romantic drama one might have been led to believe by the street posters and programme descriptions. As Edge knew, it was a harsh examination of love, portrayed through obsession and stalking, culminating in a tense final scene which caused a few gasps from behind Edge. The music, he was pleased to note, accompanied the right parts at the right times and sounded almost the way he had intended it to be played. 

As the curtain fell everybody stood and Edge found himself in the middle of an ovation. Adam was applauding as hard as anyone and that was both strange and natural at the same time. 

“I thought that was wonderful,” he told Edge when the lights came on and people started to file out of the rows. “Excellent. You were right when you said he was talented. I didn’t expect that. Not at all.”

“Yeah,” Edge answered, putting on his jacket and adjusting his hat. “Yeah, it was well done.”

Adam picked up his scarf and programme and fell into step with Edge as they walked towards the exit. “The music was beautiful, too. Very unusual. Who composed it?” Without waiting for a reply, he opened the booklet. “David Evans. Haven’t heard of him. Have you?”

It was hopeless attempting to hide the blush spreading over Edge’s cheeks; to have praise like that from Adam, someone so fascinating and exotic, was giving him a rush like nothing ever had, not even a kiss from Bono. 

“I’m familiar, yes,” he smiled. “Actually, I see him every single day.”

He waited a moment for Adam to work out the riddle, and when he did he was smiling too. 

“You? David Evans? I’d forgotten you must have a real name,” he laughed. “That was your music?” They’d made it back out to the foyer, where a frosty wind was blowing in from an open front door. 

“Yes, it was mine. Bono asked me to come up with something. At the time I had a rough idea of his story so I didn’t have much to work with, but I think it turned out okay.”

Adam was staring at Edge quite intently, their eyes searching each other as if nothing else held interest. Normally Edge might quell under such rich scrutiny, but for whatever reason he couldn’t look away. Adam was captured in front of him, so perfect but so unreal, as if he was in a photograph. Edge opened his mouth to speak again but the words that came out weren’t his.

“You made it then, love?” 

Surprised, Edge turned to see Bono there, dressed in black from head to toe and looking utterly radiant. He looked exhausted and elated. 

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Edge put a hand out, intending it to be shaken, but Bono took it in his own and squeezed tightly.

“I saw you.” His voice was almost a whisper, yet Edge heard everything he said as if it was amplified a hundred times. “Front row. Watching my play. Hearing your music. Remembering us.” And then, as if he hadn’t just sent Edge’s heart racing in his chest, Bono stepped back, released Edge’s hand and smiled winningly at Adam, who was hovering politely to Edge’s left. 

“Adam. Great to see you again.” This time, he shook the hand he was offered. “What did you think? Please, don’t feel you have to flatter me. Be like Edge, here. Insult me from time to time. It keeps me on my toes.” There was too much sugar in Bono’s voice, his eyes were too glittery. Edge knew he wasn’t making a joke.

If Adam was thrown by this comment, he was decent enough not to show it and instead told Bono how much he’d enjoyed the play, going into details to prove his point. Edge kept quiet, unable to let himself talk for fear of saying something regrettable.  _He has no right. No fucking right at all. In front of Adam, too. Smart, yes, he knows it. But he’s the one who needs to remember us. Or at least remember us correctly._

Edge would have pointed this out to Bono, but as soon as Bono finished his conversation with Adam he began moving through the crowd. It was clear he really had no intention of sorting out what had happened, and this lack of care hurt Edge more than he’d been prepared for. It was as if their relationship hadn’t been worth anything at all. 

 _Well_ , he told himself,  _maybe it hasn’t._

  
***

  
Larry shook the night’s rain from his leather jacket as he entered the flat. When he flicked the lights on, he was surprisingly dismayed to find no sign of Adam’s presence. It was to be expected, of course, that eventually Adam would find friends of his own, people to whom Larry held no connection, and spread out into a proper social life beyond aimless drinking in bars. This was the sort of thing Larry had hoped for months ago, before it actually happened. Now he was alone on a Saturday after midnight, and it wasn’t the oasis of calm and solitude he had imagined. In fact, without Adam in it, the flat didn’t feel very homely at all.

Shrugging these thoughts from the forefront of his mind, Larry hung up his jacket and went into the kitchen, where he found one of his Post-Its stuck to the fridge, bearing a message of goodwill.

 _Dear Larry,_

 _Tonight heralds my theatre-going escapade. Might be home late. Hope your evening was pleasant._

 _Regards,  
Adam_

And that was about as many words as they’d spoken in the past few days. The silence had been Larry’s fault, he knew that, but he’d found it difficult to want to converse with Adam when he was so obsessed with his job and that bookshop and Edge.

 _Edge._

Merely the name caused Larry to wrinkle his nose, as if he’d discovered a particularly gruesome food stain on the cooker (and that had happened more often than he cared to remember). True, he didn’t actually have any substantial grounds for his dislike of the man, but Larry trusted his instincts, especially when they were as strong as this. He couldn’t vocalize his doubts to Adam because he had no explanation for them, and that wouldn’t be good enough. 

 _Still, I know what’s right and what’s wrong, and I know the sort of people Adam needs to stay away from. He’s been through enough already. I’m supposed to look after him now._

Larry tried not to dwell on the important details he’d omitted from his self-justification, and instead went to get changed in his bedroom. On the way he paused at Adam’s door, which was ajar, and was unable to resist looking inside. Things certainly appeared tidier than they had been the last time Larry had sneaked in on the sly, which admittedly had been quite a while ago.  _Before that damn bookshop._  Yet the room retained its unmistakable ‘Adamness’, that quality of wonderful elegance that attracted Larry like a wave pulled towards shore. The walls were black and purple, a combination that Larry would have found unbearably constricting but seemed to suit Adam perfectly, while a huge mirror opposite the bed conjured all sorts of possibilities in Larry’s mind every time he saw it. And then there were weird pictures and strange lights and shelves littered with odds and ends. It was an unusual domain, to Larry, but he was happy to have it that way; it meant Adam lived there, could be himself,  _knows he can trust me with anything._

Larry sighed as he stepped out of the room and headed towards his own. He wished all of that was enough, but it wasn’t. Not when Adam was spending the night with Edge and all Larry had for company were thoughts and secrets, neither of which were any comfort. He wasn’t one for confession, but he couldn’t help wondering if perhaps being more honest, taking a risk, would be the right thing to do. It was just too difficult to keep quiet and hope for the best, because the best wasn’t happening.  _I hate feeling like this; like I’m someone I don’t really recognise. Like nothing fits. Like there is a part missing._

In the darkness of his room, Larry stared out onto the wet street, wishing his missing part would arrive home.

  



	8. Chapter 8

The morning after the night before, Edge woke up alone. This wasn’t much of a surprise, but it did come as a disappointment. He certainly hadn’t expected anything to happen with Adam apart from a pleasant evening, but even that had come to an abrupt end upon seeing Bono.   
  
The flat above Paperback where Edge lived wasn’t the easiest place to be when he was having issues with Bono. There were too many things that reminded Edge of him. A book here, a newspaper review tacked on the wall over there, not to mention various items of clothing that seemed to have migrated to Edge’s wardrobe and set up home. A whole history, built between them over years, was physically and emotionally ingrained within Edge, and he was finding it almost impossible to distance himself from the past. Being assertive wasn’t anything like he’d hoped it would be.    
  
_Well, not when it comes to Bono, anyway._  With Adam it was another story. Having the balls to invite him to the theatre was something Edge remained quietly proud of; he was even more proud of the fact Adam had accepted, they’d done it, and enjoyed being with each other. It was clear to see why Adam was popular with women. He was an excellent listener and a genuinely nice person. He was original, too. Nothing about his manner seemed contrived or false, yet sometimes it was as if he had stepped out of a bygone era, what with his accent and his politeness and his obsession with Earl Grey. And if it had been another time and another occasion, Edge might have entertained the notion that they were progressing from being work colleagues and sort-of friends into something a little more intimate.    
  
_But Bono had to start fucking with my mind. He’s been doing it long enough, I should have been prepared, but I’ve never felt quite like this before. As if I’ve been diluted. As if something’s missing from me. Or someone._   
  
Edge groaned and turned over in bed, and soon he had fallen into a fitful sleep containing neon dreams where Bono wore a wedding dress and Adam wore absolutely nothing.   
  
This melee of images was eventually disturbed by a loud banging, which made Edge open his eyes and squint. Light was shining very deliberately through a gap in his curtains and he wondered, vaguely, what time it was.    
  
Unwrapping himself from the bedcovers, Edge realised he was wearing only a pair of baggy pyjama bottoms, and reached for a dressing gown hanging on his door. As he padded out of the room, the banging occurred again and he discerned it was coming from his front door. He went to open it, his mind stretching to also wonder what day it might be.   
  
Adam stood outside, hand raised as if to knock; his eyes widened behind their spectacles when they alighted on Edge, standing in the doorway and looking, in all probability, like a tramp.   
  
“Oh, um, good morning,” Adam began, sounding less calm than usual. “I was hoping you weren’t ill, but I thought it best if I came to check. I’ve taken the liberty of opening the shop; I hope that was the right thing to do.”   
  
Edge rubbed his right eye and slowly began to realise he’d slept in. He stared at Adam, unable to think of any reasonable excuse for his lapse in timekeeping.    
  
“I, uh, right. Thanks. I’m, um, I’m just getting dressed. Didn’t feel too good earlier. Must have gone back to sleep. I should have called you.” This stumbling dialogue came with the slow mortification that he was half-naked, half-asleep and talking to Adam.   
  
_There goes all my good work from last night…_   
  
“Don’t worry.” Adam waved his hand with a kind of unpretentious élan only he could manage. “Take your time, everything is fine. No problems. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”   
  
Edge nodded. “Much better now, thanks. I’ll be down shortly.”    
  
Door safely closed, Edge let out a tight breath and made his way into the bathroom.   
  
*****   
  
Downstairs, Adam was setting things in order. He’d arrived at his usual time to find the shop cold, unlit and completely Edge-less. Fortunately Edge had equipped him with a key, so he’d gone inside anyway and decided to do the best he could until Edge appeared. When he hadn’t shown his face an hour later, Adam had forced himself to go up to the flat and see what had happened. Part of him had tried to hold back, not wishing to impose himself on Edge’s personal space without express permission, but the larger part was concerned in case something really had happened. For whatever reason, good or ill, Adam couldn’t settle until he knew for sure Edge was alright.   
  
Now he knew, but he still couldn’t rest. Too much was milling around in his mind; remnants of the previous evening, which he had thoroughly enjoyed, mingled unsociably with recollections of that morning, when Larry had asked brusquely if he’d had a good time. The fact that Larry had spoken was an event in itself, but Adam had tried not to show he was taken aback, and instead had given a brief, positive account of the night. He was doing his best to help things get back to normal between them, yet still there remained a strange, lingering sort of tension which was never going to be resolved unless they had a proper discussion about it. The problem was, Adam didn’t think he was ready to confide in Larry about his possible – okay, probable – feelings for Edge, and he certainly didn’t want to run the risk of a bad reaction. He had no idea what Larry’s thoughts were about homosexuality,  _not that I’m homosexual,_  and that made him apprehensive about a confession. On the other hand, he missed the closeness the two of them used to share and wondered exactly where it had all gone awry.   
  
Adam put the kettle on and started sorting through the mail he’d picked up on his way in. One pile he created for Edge’s letters and another for leaflets and random junk that had found its way to Paperback. Sometimes there were a few good offers in amongst the dross, and it kept Adam busy for a few minutes browsing through brochures and marking off items he thought might be of interest.   
  
While he was in the middle of a stationery magazine, the bell above the door jingled and he lifted his gaze, which was brought into sharp focus when he saw who had entered the shop.    
  
“Adam. Good morning.” Bono’s expressive eyes sought out his own, and Adam automatically put out a hand for shaking.  _Only polite, after all._   
  
“Hi,” Adam replied, closing the magazine. “Congratulations on last night. I hear it was a success.”   
  
Bono smiled slightly. “Yes, it went very well. Better than I had expected, actually. Of course, it was nice to have friends there for support.”   
  
“Yeah. Well, I was happy to be there, too. The play was fascinating, as I said to you afterwards. Edge said you’d been working on it for a while.”   
  
The smile faltered only a little. “Edge. Yes. He’s right, it was a long time in the making, but you see, Adam, these things can’t be rushed. If you go too fast, you’ll make a mistake and that’s no good to anyone.”   
  
Adam couldn’t do anything but agree, all the while wondering if Bono was really talking about the play or about something entirely different. They looked at each other, before Adam remembered the kettle and offered Bono a cup of tea.   
  
“Very kind, but I’ll pass. I came to see Edge. Is he around?”   
  
“Not at the moment,” Adam replied, placing a tea bag in his designated mug and pouring boiling water in. “I’m afraid he’s running behind. I don’t think he was feeling very well.”   
  
“Oh.” Bono pushed his bottom lip out, forming a rather endearing pout which caught Adam’s attention. “Oh. That’s a shame. I wanted to talk to him.”   
  
“He shouldn’t be long,” Adam continued, not wishing to say the wrong thing in this situation. “You can wait here if you like, I’m not doing much.”   
  
“Thank you,” another smile was flashed, “but I have pressing demands on my time these days, Adam. I can’t hang around waiting for people. Maybe I’ll call back later.” He paused and placed a single red rose on the counter, right on top of Adam’s office supplies catalogue. “Can you give this to Edge, please? It’s just a small gift from last night.”   
  
“Certainly. I’ll make sure he gets it when he comes down.” Adam’s fingers itched to take the rose and throw it away; the force of his feeling surprised him. “He’ll be sorry he missed you,” he added as a friendly afterthought, without any real idea whether that was true.   
  
Bono seemed to appreciate it, though. He grinned properly this time, looking both handsome and predatory at the same time. “I daresay you’re right,” he answered, and left the shop without a goodbye.    
  
Adam stood on the spot, drinking his tea, until the urge overcame him and he picked up the rose. He wasn’t going to throw it away, of course, because manners forbade him, but he did wonder what the meaning behind it was. As far as he was aware, relations between Edge and Bono weren’t exactly joyous; the previous evening had been proof of that when they’d met after the performance. Adam didn’t want to wish unhappiness on anyone, least of all Edge, but he couldn’t help wondering if it would be kinder all round if Bono just went away and left things alone, at least for the moment.   
  
_And this would have nothing to do with the fact you’d quite like to get closer to Edge, would it? Maybe help him forget Bono, maybe make him want you._

He’d never want me. There are days when I don’t particularly want me. Bono writes plays. What on earth would Edge see in me?  
  
His thoughts ended abruptly as Edge arrived in the shop. At a glance he looked as he usually did; calm and well-presented, with a trademark headscarf (green this time) securing his hair back from his face. Adam, however, had grown familiar enough with Edge to notice small differences in the way he appeared. He didn’t seem at ease and looked sleepy, greeting Adam with a half-hearted ‘hey’ and heading straight for the coffee jar. Adam couldn’t help spotting one of Edge’s shirt buttons was undone, exposing a small amount of dark hair and causing Adam to stare, even though he had never before found another man’s chest hair remotely interesting.  _Certainly not Larry’s, but then that’s probably because he hasn’t got any._  
  
“I just boiled the kettle,” Adam offered by way of assistance, moving past Edge and handing him a mug. Edge stared at it for a moment before nodding and thanking Adam. “You’re welcome. How are you feeling now? Any better?”   
  
“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. I can’t believe I overslept. Sorry, Adam. I didn’t mean to leave you here by yourself.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. I managed. It was quite fun, actually, opening the shop and everything.”   
  
Edge turned to him, a faint smile traced on his lips. “Good. I’m glad you like working here, you know. It’s been lovely having proper company recently. I’d started to forget what that was like.”  
  
Adam was touched by the sincerity in Edge’s voice, although he tried not to show it and instead shrugged a little. “You’re the one doing me the favour. Keeping me off the streets and out of Larry’s way.”  
  
Edge stirred milk into his coffee. “I think we’ve both benefited from the arrangement, haven’t we? And I’m glad you came with me last night. I don’t know if I would have gone alone.”  
  
Adam was desperate to ask questions about Bono and find out what was happening, but he couldn’t possibly be that rude. Instead, he pushed the rose towards Edge’s side of the desk and said, “That reminds me. Bono was in here not long ago. He gave me this for you. He said it’s a gift from last night.”  
  
Edge continued to stir, the spoon clattering against the sides of the mug, and for a moment Adam was concerned he’d spoken out of turn. At last Edge took a sip of his coffee, stepped over to where the rose lay on the counter and picked it up, examining it closely. Adam couldn’t watch without appearing impolite, so he opted to arrange some books on one of the shelves. He kept sneaking glances in Edge’s direction, hoping to glean some clues from his expression. None came - until Edge tossed the flower into the bin and stormed off into the store cupboard.   
  
Adam waited.   
  
 _Five minutes…_

Ten…

Where the hell is he?  
  
He went to the store cupboard and pushed the ajar door fully open, which shone light into the dark room and showed Edge, sitting in the middle of a sea of books. He busied himself with piling them up when he saw Adam, but Adam wasn’t fooled. Stepping inside, he dropped down next to Edge and couldn’t miss the wet stains on those lovely cheeks.   
  
“Edge?” Adam said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”  _I’m getting good at these stupid questions, aren’t I?_  
  
Edge nodded, and then shrugged. “I’m fine,” he answered in a low voice, not angrily. “You’ve left the shop,” he added.  
  
“Never mind the shop,” Adam chided. “I’m more worried about you.”  _Don’t push him; he doesn’t have to tell me anything._  
  
Edge nodded again. “Thank you. Not sure I’m worth being worried about, but thank you.”  
  
“What makes you say that?” It’s the kind of thing I’d say, and it doesn’t suit anyone else. Least of all him.  
  
“I don’t know what to do,” was what Edge said, marking a slight change in topic, and Adam tried to follow. “I knew what I wanted, before, and now it’s all… wrong.”  
  
It was odd that Adam had to force himself to say the name he believed was associated with Edge’s unhappiness; it was as if he was jealous.  _But that can’t be; I’m immune to normal relationship emotions, remember?_  Still, it was with some effort that he offered, “Bono?”  
  
Edge stared, miserably, at his hands. “It’s so stupid, Adam. I really thought I would be free. But I, I feel more trapped than ever, if that’s possible. There are things I want to say, and…” He trailed off, shrugging. “I just don’t know.”  
  
 _He has a lovely profile. Intriguing. Noble, somehow._  
  
Adam placed his hand on Edge’s arm, hoping that he could offer a grain of comfort. He was completely unprepared for Edge turning a little and, very deliberately, shifting so his hand moved and fell into the one Adam proffered.   
  
 _Oh. Oh God. This is almost too much._  
  
The time to speak was now, and Adam used his free hand to push his glasses up his nose, preparing himself. He didn’t want to frighten Edge away, but at the same time he felt that an invitation had been issued, and he had a real, guttural urge to accept in some way.  _A kiss, perhaps. A touch. A confession._  Each suggestion his mind made was as big as the last until, after what seemed like minutes, he stumbled, lost his nerve a little, and said, “Edge, you know I’m here if you ever need to talk to someone.”  
  
Edge’s eyes were bright and piercing as he looked at Adam, looked straight at him as if he wanted to pin him down by sight alone. He wouldn’t have had much trouble there, as Adam didn’t at all feel like going anywhere. He was vaguely aware that this probably wasn’t the wisest situation to be in, but that feeling was rather outweighed by the nearly overwhelming sensation that he had never quite wanted anyone as much as he wanted Edge right now.  
  
Edge squeezed his hand, nodded, and leaned forwards, close enough that his breath felt warm on Adam’s face. “I know. Thank you. You… You’re a wonderful man, Adam.”  
  
Swallowing hard, Adam shook his head.  _I have to be honest with him. I have to let him know what I’m like, how disappointed he’s going to be if he thinks I’m wonderful. Far, far from it._  “No, I’m not. I’m not. I’m not, I can’t be. You have to realise.” He couldn’t bring himself to say any more and sat there holding Edge’s hand, too scared to speak further. He was perilously close to revealing too much and giving Edge plenty of reasons to dislike him; he wasn’t sure he could let that happen just yet.   
  
Their hands remained linked. Edge seemed to be shuffling closer. Adam’s heart was pounding in his chest. Too much was happening, yet Adam knew he was powerless to stop it.  _I want to find out how he feels,_  he thought wildly.  
  
The shop doorbell rang loudly, and both men stilled, staring at one another.   
  
Adam had totally forgotten he was supposed to be working. He’d even forgotten they were in a bookshop. His entire world had condensed into Edge sitting in front of him, and now it was expanding again, bringing into sharp focus the colours of the surrounding books, the noise of cars outside, the bodily awareness that he was a man holding the hand of another man.   
  
“Oh.” Edge reacted as one coming out of a trance, and let go of Adam in order to stand up. “Better see who that is.” He donated a quick smile to Adam’s longing, and then left the store cupboard. Adam could hear him greeting the customer cheerfully, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.  
  
 _It hasn’t really. I got a little carried away, after all. Don’t blame him for leaving._  
  
Taking a deep breath, Adam got to his feet, rubbed his misted spectacles on his shirt, and joined Edge in the front of the shop.  
  
*****  
  
Larry came into Paperback just after lunchtime, blown in with a wind which to Adam felt like the real icy beginnings of winter. Hands firmly in pockets, Larry grudgingly acknowledged Edge’s presence before addressing Adam, who didn’t want to spoil this turn of events by speaking first.  
  
“How’s it going?” Larry asked, shuffling a little on the spot. “It’s fucking cold out there.”  
  
Adam nodded. “Yes. Snow this weekend, I imagine. Hopefully the start of a white winter.” He almost included Edge in this discussion, but thought better of it when he noticed the stony look Larry was issuing in that direction. “So.”  _Brilliant conversation, this._  
  
“Yeah. I got promoted.” Larry spoke gruffly, as if he was ashamed of the news, but Adam barely noticed as he let himself relax and smile.  
  
“Larry, that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, and this time he was unable to keep quiet. “Edge, guess what? Larry’s been promoted!”  
  
Edge was wandering past with some books, and gave Larry what to most people would have been an amiable smile, but what to Adam seemed a frozen expression, most unlike the man it belonged to. “Congratulations. I imagine your customers will be very pleased.” A hint of sarcasm seasoned his words with bitterness. With that, he disappeared upstairs, leaving Adam feeling uncomfortable and Larry almost breathing fire.  
  
“What the fuck…” he muttered, shaking his head. “That guy’s an idiot.”  
  
Adam sighed. “Larry, please. Let’s not.”  
  
“Well, what else do you expect? He’s a fucking loser. How you can work here is beyond me.”  
  
“Larry,” Adam repeated, warningly this time, “I don’t want to have this conversation. Whatever your problem is, deal with it. I’m not so desperate to talk to you that I’ll let you insult my friends.”  
  
Larry snorted but kept silent.  
  
“Now, I’m really happy for you and I think tonight we should go out and celebrate. It’s not as if we’ve done much of that lately.”  _My fault as much as his, and I want to make it up to him._  
  
“Okay. Whatever. I’ll see you later.” Larry left the shop, letting in more freezing air, and Adam shivered in the aftermath.   
  
*****  
  
In the evening, when Adam had left for the day and the ‘closed’ sign was turned to the public, Edge went about his usual routine of making sure everything was in its place and that the shop looked relatively tidy. He turned off the lights, locked the front door and started to head up to the flat, when he something that had been at the back of his mind all afternoon finally came to the forefront.   
  
He stepped behind the counter and peered into the bin; by the dim light cast through the window from a streetlamp, Edge saw the rose Bono had brought for him. It lay there, under Adam’s empty sandwich wrapper, apparently undamaged by the careless treatment it had received.   
  
 _This is useless._  Edge sighed, thinking that he could no more reject the gift than he could reject Bono, despite his best attempts. There was simply too  _much_  of him-and-Bono to ignore. He wished he’d never behaved the way he had towards Adam in the store cupboard; it had been unprofessional and, more importantly, unfair.  _How can I expect Adam to fit into a gap left by someone else? A gap I created? I don’t want that. Adam deserves better._  
  
The thought of Adam bolstered Edge’s resolve, and he remembered why it was he had said no to Bono in the first place, and to his rose today.  
  
 _I  deserve better, too._  
  
Edge picked the flower out of the bin and placed it in a cupboard under the desk, where it would wither and die out of his sight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this fic, it was clear in my mind that it was going to be Adam/Edge. Now it has turned into something entirely different, I can't say with certainty which (if any) pairing will be dominant. I just wanted to point this out in case people are holding out for A/E and wanting to kill me when it keeps not happening. I’m not saying it won’t – just perhaps not the way I’d intended.
> 
> That said, here’s the next installment. Massive thanks and hugs to needleandspoon for supporting me and making this chapter better, and generally being fabulous. Any remaining errors are mine alone.

  


The reviews were all good, but Bono didn’t feel like celebrating his success. It had been a new and unwelcome experience to pore over the newspapers with only a cup of coffee to keep him company. Usually in this situation, Edge would be sitting across the kitchen table from him, reading out loud what the critics had to say, but this time there was no one to offer support or congratulations. Apart from the fact he revelled in the simple joy that sort of intimacy afforded, Bono also felt that even bad news sounded bearable when relayed by that beautiful man in his lovely, melodious voice. Bono needed Edge with him, and he thought he had made that pretty clear during the time they had known one another, even before they’d become lovers. Bono never left Edge out, never forgot about him, never went without seeing him every day unless doing otherwise was unavoidable. And yet, despite it all, Edge had seen fit to cut Bono off without a proper explanation. It hurt; like a sucker-punch to the belly, it winded Bono each time his mind turned that way, and it did so often. 

Bono tipped the whiskey bottle and let some of its contents splash into his coffee.  _Shouldn’t be doing this, it’s still early, fuck it, who cares, certainly not Edge._  For all his best efforts, Bono still couldn’t feel anger towards Edge. Perplexity filled him more than ire, the helplessness he felt at not being able to understand. He didn’t think Edge understood, either, and perhaps that was worse.  _His understanding was what saved me, and brought us together._

Abandoning the coffee, Bono drank straight from the bottle, wincing at both the bite of the alcohol and the renewed memories that came with his thoughts. 

When Edge had started his bookshop, Bono had been behind him all the way. He’d recognised Edge’s need to build something that was his own, something that hadn’t belonged to anybody else first.  _And didn’t I understand that too well?_ All the spare time Edge would normally spend with Bono – talking, reading, making love – suddenly became swallowed up by the newborn business, which required enormous effort to get it off the ground.  _We barely saw one another, and when we did we ended up discussing where the crime novels should go, or what colour to paint the door. He liked hearing what I had to say._  They assumed, although nothing was ever said aloud, that things would go back to normal once Paperback settled down.

For a couple of years, they were right. Bono remembered with clarity the way he’d fallen deeper in love with Edge, further than he’d imagined possible, and the sense he’d had that this was what his life had been leading up to. The hurt of the past was preparation, so he’d appreciate true love.  _I believed that, I really did. I still do. He just doesn’t know about…_

Bono shook his head, forcing himself to veer away from that particular track. Instead, he concentrated on Edge, wondered when exactly something shifted and made Edge think what they had wasn’t valuable.  _Maybe that’s not right. Maybe he sees the value. But he started to come to me less often. We didn’t play music together as frequently. He took less interest in what I was doing. He… didn’t need me?_

Bono sighed, pushing the bottle away and getting to his feet. He didn’t really believe Edge stopped needing him, and he didn’t believe that what they shared wasn’t salvageable.  _If I put the effort in, it would be. If he put the effort in. Hurting him didn’t help, the rose didn’t help. What should I do? What about Adam?_  Bono couldn’t lie to himself and pretend Edge didn’t show signs of liking Adam beyond the relationship of work colleagues, but he also couldn’t do Edge the disservice of presuming there was anything to be jealous of.  _Too many questions and no answers. Fucking hell, I wish he was here._

Bono went into his bedroom. Edge had helped him arrange the furniture when Bono had moved apartments over three years before. Here and there lay hints of their closeness, items Edge left behind and hadn’t bothered retrieving: guitar picks, hats, the occasional shirt. Bono started looking for clothes of his own, having decided he ought to get some work done, but his heart wasn’t quite in it. There was a familiar, burning sense in him that he wasn’t enough, that in fact he was expendable enough to be replaced – by  _a shop_  this time – and he knew it wouldn’t go until he found some peace.

Bono ran a hand through his tangled hair and looked out of the window, feeling his eyes cloud over, the result of yet another sleepless night. 

 _The only way I can do that is to talk to Edge. Properly. No matter how painful it turns out to be._

  
*

  
Edge stood in the middle of Paperback and surveyed the chaos before him. Even though it was a Saturday, often the busiest day of the week, he’d given Adam the day off, and on top of that a mad impulse had made him want to rearrange the shop layout. So far, he had moved fiction nearer to the door, as it was the most popular section, and located travel books by the desk, because he liked engaging people in conversation about which countries they had visited. The desk, of course, never moved; it was in the ideal position already, under the big window where it received the best light.

Now, though, Edge had to sort through the rest. A tall pile of cookery books simmered on the floor near the store cupboard. Biographies were homeless around the postcard stand. Erotic novels – a genre Bono seemed to browse more often than customers did – were flaunting their attractions by the stairs. There was just too much, and Edge was weary.

Glancing at the calendar tacked to the desk, he sighed. December was here, and that meant it was time for decorations. Normally, making the shop festive was a task he didn’t mind at all, because every year since Paperback opened Bono would come round and help, stamping his personality on the proceedings. On a couple of occasions they’d had to close the shop for an hour or two after neglecting their duties and surrendering to their need for closeness, for sex.  _I do miss it, despite everything,_  Edge thought sadly, as he picked up the cookery books and carried them towards one of the remaining empty shelves, hoping he didn’t drop them.  _I miss him coming up behind me and kissing my neck. Or running his fingers through my hair. Christmas has always been such a good season for us._

The bell above the door tinkled, snapping Edge back to reality and he turned, almost dropping the books in fright. Adam took one look around and hurried over to relieve Edge of his burden. 

“Here, allow me,” Adam said, placing them down beside the designated shelf –  _he knew where I wanted the books to go before I told him_  – and grinning. “Nice to know that time exercising wasn’t all for nothing.”

Edge raised an eyebrow. “Exercising?”

Adam shrugged. “Well, Larry forced me to go with him to the gym once, about three years ago. Strangely, I found that to be one time too many. He didn’t like the way I exercised.”

Edge couldn’t help laughing, amazed at how much cheerier he felt now that Adam was here.  _Now I’m not on my own,_  he amended. “What was wrong with the way you exercised?”

“Perhaps the fact that I only used one machine and then spent the rest of my time in the cafeteria, smoking and reading the newspaper. Larry gave me the filthiest look when we got home. Said I’d spoiled his routine. Apparently he’d completely forgotten whose idea it had been in the first place.” He paused and looked around once more, at the untidy shop. “So, what’s going on?”

“Oh, just needed a change,” Edge replied, starting to arrange books on the shelves. “I do this now and then. Get bored and move things.” He slid a sideways glance at Adam, whose cheeks were pink from the cold wind. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you’d be making the most of your day off.”

Adam smiled. “I am. I’m on my way to see Larry. I told him we’d have lunch on his break. First day of his promotion,” he added, reminding Edge.

“Right.”  _I wonder if he’ll tell Larry he came to see me first?_  Shaking himself from the silly, childish thought, Edge asked what Larry did for work.

“He works in a restaurant. An upmarket one. You might have heard of it. Twilight. Crap name, great food.” He laughed. “That’s Larry’s unofficial tagline for it.”

Edge allowed himself to remember Bono taking him there for one of their many anniversaries. “Yes, actually, I’ve been there. Long time ago. Before Larry worked there, I imagine.”

“Very likely. He only started in the summer. Anyway,” Adam continued, “I know he might not seem like a waiter but he’s impressed everyone since he started and they’ve made him assistant manager already. Part of that means working weekends, though, so I thought lunch would cheer him up.”

“I see.” Edge turned a Delia Smith tome so it was the prominent title in the line of books.

“Maybe you’d like to come for dinner there one night? Larry could get us a good table, even if it’s busy, and he can join us.” Underneath Adam’s breezy suggestion, Edge heard a note of apprehension.  _He’s desperate for me and Larry to get on. He must see how difficult that would be, considering how we react to each other. Mind you, it’d probably be harder for him to sit between us._

But, “That sounds nice,” was all he said, earning a relieved smile from Adam which was the ideal reward. 

“Okay. I’ll speak to you about it next week. I’d better go.” Adam headed for the door, giving Edge a wave before leaving. Edge continued to sort the books, wondering why he couldn’t decide what – who – he wanted.  _I’m pushing everyone away, I know that. If I end up alone, I’ll have only myself to blame._  

Edge crossed the floor, picked up the phone and dialled.

  
*

  
There was one major advantage of being assistant manager: people listened. They actually listened. Sometimes, they even stopped what they were doing to make sure they paid attention. Larry liked the brief rush of power that came with delegating; it weighed snugly in his palm, like a paperweight. He wasn’t one to shout about his achievements, but being able to arrange things the way he wanted them was more than satisfying. 

“Rachel, can you see to table twelve, please?” He stood beside the willowy teenager as she scribbled something on a piece of paper.

She glanced up, her face transforming when she realised who was speaking to her. “Oh, yeah, I’ll be there in two seconds,” she replied a little breathlessly, stuffing the paper into her pocket and striding off to the middle of the restaurant. She looked back twice at Larry.

Larry sighed. For a couple of months now he’d heard an ongoing rumour that one of the waitresses had a huge crush on him, but he hadn’t believed it. He had assumed his colleagues were winding him up; they’d often commented on how serious he seemed and how he needed to lighten up. Ignoring all of that playground nonsense had been much easier when he’d been on the same level as those dishing it out. Now, he had the space to look down on them, and time to realise that in fact, some of their nonsense was true.  _Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. How did I manage to forget that?_

He prayed Rachel wasn’t planning to do anything silly like ask him out. That would create a really awkward situation. She knew he didn’t have a girlfriend – he’d accidentally let that slip after too much alcohol at the night out Adam organised for his birthday – and he couldn’t break her heart by claiming he didn’t find her attractive.  _She’s a very pretty girl. And she’s sweet. It’s just… she’s a girl._

Rachel reappeared before Larry could follow his train of thought any further, and tore an order off her pad, ready to hand it in to the kitchen. “Mr. Mullen, your friend is here to take you to lunch. Adam? He’s waiting in the foyer.”

 _Adam._  The name illuminated a part of Larry’s soul. 

“Right, thanks.” Larry stepped behind the staff desk to retrieve his long black winter coat. As he turned to go, he added, “You can still call me Larry, by the way. Mr. Mullen makes me uncomfortable.”

Rachel smiled. “We wouldn’t want that.”

Suppressing a groan, Larry shrugged on his coat and walked through to the foyer to meet Adam, who was hovering by the oak-panelled doors. “Hey. Sorry, I had some stuff to do and lost track of time.”

“That’s okay.” Adam wrapped a plaid scarf around his neck and led the way out of the restaurant. The wintry wind whipped over their faces and Larry instinctively pulled up the collar of his coat. They began walking towards their favourite café, three streets away from Twlight. “So, how is it? Being the boss?”

“Good. I have to do a lot more organising than I realised, but that’s all right.” They stopped at a road and waited for the green man to appear. “What is with this weather? It’s suddenly a lot colder.”

Adam looked to the sky. “It’s certainly come on quickly. And there’ll be snow, judging by that cloud.” The beeping of the signal was followed by dozens of people crossing, and Larry and Adam joined them. “You think you’ll like it, then?”

Larry shrugged. “I suppose. It’s the best job I’ve had for a long time, at least.” Adam stepped into him then, pushing their bodies close together, as a shopping-laden mother squeezed past pushing a buggy. Larry felt a shiver zigzag through him and end in a hot ball right at the base of his spine.  _Oh, just a little more of this, I feel hot and cold at the same time, I want to kiss him._ Then, just as swiftly, Adam was away, keeping his distance, apologising. Larry swallowed his desire and concentrated on getting to the café without further incident.

Over two steaming bowls of vegetable broth, Larry and Adam talked about work and how it was going for both of them. Larry did his best to listen attentively when Adam explained how Edge was rearranging the shop and how they were still getting on well; he sat on the jealousy that threatened to bubble up every time Edge’s name was mentioned, and reminded himself how great it was that Adam was finally in a job he liked. Larry doubted there was any real harm in the bookshop owner, who for all he knew regarded Adam as nothing more than a friend, but the gnawing worry that Adam was being taken from him was becoming stronger than his logic. 

Larry knew he was his own worst enemy.  _If I could just tell Adam how I feel, he might feel the same. We might have a chance. These six years will have been for something worthwhile, something that is mine to keep._

As he watched Adam go over to the counter for a cake, Larry shook himself from the daydream he’d fallen into.  _This is ridiculous. He doesn’t have a clue what I want._

Adam chose that moment to look back at Larry, giving him a smile. Larry’s belly ached as he returned it, ached with all the things he couldn’t say.  _Oh, but I want._  His mind was still in the midst of his longing when Adam came back with a delicious-looking chocolate slice, and for a blissful moment Larry forgot they weren’t a couple. It was too perfect, their closeness and companionship, without anyone to interrupt it.

“So,” Adam began, using his fork to spear a piece of the cake. “I have something I want to ask you.”

“Oh? What’s that?”  _Snap out of the stupid dream you’re in; he’s not about to ask you out._

“Well, I was speaking to Edge and I –  _we_  thought it might be a nice idea if the three of us – you, me and him – all went out for dinner or something one night. You know, get to know each other a little better. We could even visit Twilight; I think Edge would like to do that.” Adam’s expression was hopeful as he looked at Larry, but Larry’s heart was dropping like rock falling down a cliff.

“ _Edge?_ ” He took a deep breath, unable to believe Adam would think this a wise suggestion. Larry had made it clear he didn’t like Edge, and to force them to sit at the same table wasn’t going to bring harmony. Not on Larry’s part, anyway. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – pretend, not even for Adam’s sake.  _I can’t sit beside them, I can’t listen to their happy little work stories. I’ve given him so fucking much. I deserve something. When is it going to come?_

Adam must have sensed something wasn’t right in Larry’s voice, because he was frowning in concern, cake half-way to his mouth. “Yes, Edge. He’s a friend and you’re my friend and I don’t see why you both can’t --” He trailed off as Larry shoved the chair back and stood, digging in his pocket for money. “Larry? Are you okay?”

 _No, I’m not fucking okay. I need you so badly it’s causing me pain, and why don’t you know that? He’s not right for you. I am._

Larry settled for shaking his head, pressing his lips together to keep from saying something he’d regret. He threw a couple of notes down and grabbed his coat, ready to storm out, when he glanced back and saw Adam, confused and worried, staring after him. Larry leaned across the table, barely refraining from placing his own hand over Adam’s.

“You can’t make me like someone I know is no good, Ad’. Do what you want, it’s your life, but leave me out of it.”  _I can’t tell him why I think he’ll get hurt; I don’t need him to get suspicious._

Adam looked perplexed. “But you don’t even  _know_  Edge. You don’t know anything about him. How can you be like this towards him?”

Larry shrugged in lieu of an answer he didn’t have, and said goodbye to Adam before walking out of the café and heading back to work. He had to keep busy if he wasn’t to lose it completely. 

 _He thinks I don’t know about men like Edge, but I do. I know a lot. Too much, in fact._

  
*

  
Edge couldn’t help laughing as he watched the tree go up in the corner of the main shop, behind the desk. It was taller than he was and the top of it almost brushed the ceiling.  _When I said ‘large’, I didn’t think…_

The two workmen who had carried it inside waited until they’d been paid, and then left with a half-hearted ‘Merry Christmas’. Edge moved closer and touched one of the branches, chuckling as pine needles dropped onto the carpet. “This thing is going to need a lot of care,” he mused, almost jumping out of his skin when he heard the bell ring behind him.  _Forgot to turn the sign, closed for lunch,_  he thought, and was about to say something to that effect when he heard Bono’s voice right beside his ear. 

“Sounds a bit like you.”

Edge was about to retort, but then he looked properly at Bono and was startled to see the man’s face full of an unusual anxiety, plus a great deal of tiredness. “Thanks for coming,” he said, softly. 

Bono made an attempt at a shrug, dumping two carrier bags on the counter. “No need to thank me. I was going to bring them back anyway.”

Edge didn’t believe him, but let it go.  _Now is not the time to make things worse._  Instead, he tipped the baubles out of one bag, and the tinsel out of the other. “I’d forgotten all this stuff was at yours. How did it get there?”

“Don’t know.” Bono picked up a particularly pretty bauble, one that was blue with silver glitter. “Remember this? We got it at that Christmas market. And this one,” he added, pointing to a similarly-designed red ball. 

“Yeah. If my memory serves me correctly, we drank too much mulled wine and you ended up sitting on the green one that completed the set.” Edge smiled, but Bono didn’t. He hadn’t even taken off his coat or scarf, and Edge wondered if he was going to stay after all.  _Perhaps I’ve assumed wrongly, and he’s reconsidering. I’ll have to convince him._  “I hope you’ll help me decorate?” He moved past Bono and hung the red bauble on the tree. 

“If you want,” Bono mumbled, toying with one of the angels’ wings. There was a silence as unspoken words settled in the air, clouding Edge’s judgement. He had believed he was doing the right thing by putting a stop to their relationship, but as he stood there now, staring at Bono, he didn’t know what to think. The other man’s demeanour was far removed from his usual optimism, and possibilities crossed Edge’s mind that he hadn’t entertained before – or hadn’t allowed himself to.  _What if… what if I’ve hurt him? What if I did wrong? What if I’ve been angry with him through nothing but my own stupidity?_

“Yes.” Edge nodded, almost afraid of his own voice. “I do want.” He held out a hand, praying that Bono took it and let him back in. By the time a voice in his head warned him to be careful, it was too late; he couldn’t undo the action, just like he couldn’t undo his previous ones. Bono’s palm pressed against his, and they stood together in the shadow of the enormous tree, making a study of each other’s faces. Or, at least, that was what Edge was doing right before Bono kissed him, taking his breath away. 

“Bono,” Edge gasped when they parted, staring wildly into cool eyes. He thought he ought to put a stop to this before it got out of hand, but Bono was squeezing his hand, rubbing his fingers around Edge’s wrist. 

“You know what I want, don’t you?” he said, smiling just a little. Edge didn’t think the smile had much mirth in it. “It must be obvious by now.”

 _Oh, yes, fuck, he tastes so good, where has he been, why did I let him go?_  Edge moaned in sheer frustration when Bono’s free hand cupped his chin, fingers caressing his jaw.  _It’s not right but I don’t care, I need now, the door’s opening, we should break apart, but I can’t, don’t want to, won’t open my eyes…_

A throat cleared, and then a quiet, English voice broke through the fog in Edge’s brain, yanking him back to reality and away from Bono’s eager mouth. 

“I’ll come back later, shall I?”   


  



End file.
